Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story was written between TWO people on RP-ME|| The Posts made by "Nora" and "Daryl" are separated by the LINES.**

* * *

Memories swam like blurred photographs through her mind. Fuzzy; incomprehensible and incoherent. Nora Brannigan's eyes shifted slightly beneath corseted lids. Her breath sped slightly from the pain in her ribs from the spill down the ridge that she'd remembered perfectly. A car alarm rang loudly in her head from her recollections and she did remember the severe pain spreading like wildfire through her body when she was hoisted over a stranger's shoulder and carried towards that annoying drill.

"Hey... hey, lady." Came a gravely, crisp country voice. The twang edged her eyelids open and her bright blue hues darted in all directions before landing on a rather handsome young man with dark curly hair and chocolate brown eyes. "There yah are. How yah feelin'?"

She closed her eyes again as the reminder set in. Her lips were parched and her head pounded. Her body felt like it was on fire from the agony. "Like I got hit by fifty freight trains. What 'appened out dere? Where am I?"

"Shit... you're like... from a whole other country, ain't yah?" He chimed with a husky chuckle. "You were beat up pretty bad. Found yah just on the outskirts of the camp."

"Runnin' from th'undead will do that to yah." She replied. Brannigan opened her eyes once more as she felt his worried stare. "I didn't get bit or scratched, if dat's what yer wonderin'." She added. A solemn look took to her graceful features and she lowered her gaze to her lap. "So ye saved me. T'ank ye."

He seemed to pause for a long moment before he nodded at her thanks. "Well. Can't be walkin' 'round here callin' yah a foreigner, can we?" He joked. Nora would have laughed if she wasn't in so much pain... and if it was funny. "What's your name, baby gal?"

"Well, it sure as shit ain't baby-gal." She scoffed out, wincing immediately after from her sore abdomen muscles. "Nora. Nora Brannigan."

Shane arose just then, dusting his pants off before offering her his hand to shake. She took it almost hesitantly. "Well, th'name's Shane Walsh, Nora Brannigan. Welcome to the crew." He turned slightly before adding, "get yourself some more rest. Dinner will be ready in a few hours."

* * *

Things were moving too slowly for Daryl. The time dragged on and it seemed like hours upon hours had passed since the small group was sent out to scout the city for supplies. He was beginning to grow impatient, which wasn't saying much. However, rather than sitting around anywhere near these people, Daryl had decided to go hunting while he waited. It was something that would occupy his mind while he waited, which might help to keep him from getting too frustrated from having to wait.

Earlier he had stumbled upon a woman in the woods when he had gone to hunt. He found her bleeding out and barely clinging onto consciousness. Daryl had done the best he could with what little tools and items he had on him at the time to hold off the bleeding while he carried her back to the camp where she could be taken care of. The redneck dumped her off into the hands of the Deputy with little interest to stick around and see if she would pull through. Many seemed surprised by Daryl having ACTUALLY brought back a living survivor, but he paid no attention to it. He brushed it off like he did with anything they all thought about him, before returning to the woods.

A couple more hours had passed and when he had returned to camp, disgruntled already about the deer he had lost, but slightly relieved with the news of the scouting group's return. He stormed through the camp, shouting for his brother to come help him with cleaning what little food he had managed to catch, but the only response he got was the frightful expressions of the other survivors. At first he shrugged them off, by now having been used to the funny way people looked at him, but something in his gut told him this time was different. Sure enough, that new Sheriff Woody approached him and with news of his older brother.

After much shouting and many flying squirrels later, Daryl was prepping himself to go into Atlanta to rescue his brother. He passed by the survivors gathered around the usual kumbaya campfire, his eyes wandering briefly over each of their faces as he glowered. He noticed the young woman he had rescued amongst the lot but did nothing to acknowledge her existence as he moved on.

By the time Daryl and the others returned, the entire campsite had been overrun by walkers. Daryl's crossbow was strapped along his back, being rendered completely useless as he was only down to one bolt left. In his hands he firmly gripped the shotgun that he had been given from Rick and immediately began mowing down what infected crossed his path. He emptied the shotgun shells into their heads, watching as their brain matter splattered all over the place. He swiftly moved along, walking down the trail of tents stationed down the hill and began clearing out the infected this way. Over in this direction were the tents that Carol and Ed stayed at, and across from them were the tents that the hispanics stayed out.

He heard Ed's screams as a walker chowed down on his fatass like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Carol had taken Sophia in her arms, horrified and paralyzed with fear. Daryl cocked his shotgun and blew out its brains. "C'MON LADY! MOVE YOUR ASS!" Daryl roared at Carol, seeming to break her from her inability to move as she rushed past him with her daughter. He continued forward, making his way over to the Hispanic's tent that was beginning to get overrun with walkers. One of the little kids was grabbed by their ankle and toppled to the ground with one of the infected. Daryl raised his gun to get a shot. Click. He was on empty and by now it was too late. The tiny child squealed like a pig being slaughtered as the walker took a giant chunk out of his leg. "Sonuva bitch!" Daryl shouted as he rushed over to the walker and tried to wrestle it off of the child.

* * *

Daryl Dixon was NOT a name (nor a personality) the lone Brannigan child held interest in getting to know. If anything, she remained at a cold, cruel distance with a judgmental eye; like a hunter stalking its prey. His mannerisms were rash, outlandish and sporadic; a very dangerous combination in the midst of such a New World Order. There was no telling just how many walkers could hear his shouts in the midst of his shouting with Rick and Shane - nor how many walkers could have heard the incessant blaring of the truck horn as he paced in the back of the moving truck.

But it was not Nora's place to say anything and as such, she would keep to her silence, eat apart from the group and try to avoid as many inquiries as possible. Over the past few days, she had felt much better by the next morning and was planning on heading out on her own by the end of the week.

That was, until the horde finally found them.

Nora had turned in early, planning on getting some much-needed shut-eye before she faced another day of pestering and invasive questions. All to no avail, it seemed. Screams of terror and gutteral moans of cannibalistic hunger made her wake with a start and scramble for her weapons. Shane had graciously provided her with them when he had come to the conclusion that she was of no harm to him or the group he traveled with. She had also made a point to try and convince Rick to allow her the option as well.

It worked. Thank God.

She readied her katana, sais and bow and arrow before she limped into the battlefield. She began with the compound bow, taking down a substantial amount before she regrettably ran out of arrows and had to switch to close combat. Sweat and blood dripped from her body as she chopped and stabbed her way through the crowds of the undead, careful not to get a bad brush with any of them.

A bloodcurdling screech caught her eardrums and her head whipped to the sound of the child as his leg was viciously torn apart by the Undead. Nora sprang into action with as much gracefulness as she could muster, cutting a bloody path directly to the scene.

She snuck skillfully behind the walker and with one swanlike wave of her blade, the walker's head was lopped right off. It tumbled to the ground with a hard thump and she proceeded to jam the blade into the brainstem for good measure before she moved to assist Daryl in removing the corpse from the child.

* * *

Though Daryl was taken by surprise from Nora's sudden appearance it did not distracted him from continuing with his efforts to help the small child. He pressed his lips together as they pulled downward into a scowl. The kid was wailing loudly, his face soaked in tears as he laid there like a wounded animal. Daryl was never one to watch things suffer. Many would look at him and often they saw the shadow of Merle behind him. One quick look at him and they all assumed he was no different, but they were wrong. His eyes shifted to rest upon the petite woman at his side briefly, his inner struggle just barely visible through his expression as he quickly looked away from her to the kid. He removed his crossbow from his back and placed his last remaining bolt into the flight groove before pulling back on the string. Once his crossbow was locked and loaded the Redneck lifted it and aimed at the child's head. Daryl pulled the trigger, sending the bolt clean through the kid's forehead and putting him out of his misery.

Without even a moment's hesitation he quickly moved over to the corpse and retrieved his last remaining bolt. He gripped the arrow with one hand and ripped it out before wiping it off on his pant leg, his eyes stealing a glance from Nora as he stored the bolt away and moved past her to help with the last remaining walkers elsewhere.

The next morning everyone had begun to gather up the corpses of the deceased survivors and of the walkers and Daryl had given himself the task of making sure they were dead. The Redneck had started smashing his giant pick-axe through each skull of every corpse that he came across, assurring himself that they would never again move. Almost everyone at the camp looked at him with a hint of bitterness as he even did this to some of the fallen survivors. A few argued that it was inhumane and that he should show respect, but he argued back and surprisingly Rick backed him up on the idea. However, the second it became known that someone amongst them had been bitten and Daryl had tried to kill them, Rick had quickly pulled out his pistol and aimed it directly at his head. It was bad enough that everyone was putting up with the dumb blonde for hovering over her sister's corpse without doing a thing about it, but not having to deal with an actual infected survivor in their group? Daryl reluctantly put down his pick-axe and glared Rick down before storming off to begin piling the corpses up to begin burning them.

* * *

Though Nora's heart clenched in her chest and stilled a beat as Daryl readied his crossbow for the child's head, she couldn't help but understand his reasons behind his actions. The child would turn, only causing more suffering for his parents when they saw him turn into a monster. The young Brannigan caught his eyes once more after the shot was taken, saying nothing; simply staring. Piercing blue orbs crashed into one another and the inner turmoil sifting ever so chaotically through their depths was enough to almost knock the Galway Archer to her knees.

She turned away from him as he did to her, proceeding to finish the war waging around them.

"He killed my baby!" The Spanish woman shouted, beating her fists against her husband's chest. The words stung Nora's heart and she turned her slated eyes to the dramatic scene. "He killed him! Cold blood, papi, he killed my baby!"

Carol stopped and stared, clutching her precious daughter in her arms as though she was bound by the umbilical chord still. Lori sat with Carl, hugging him tightly as he cried on her shoulder. Andrea was far off in her own world of delirium, tending to her sick sister, waiting for her to turn like a damn idiot.

"How could someone be so cold?" Lori whispered to Carol.

"Because 'e 'ad to." Nora piped up, her voice a bit more stern than intended. Her tone was ripped, shredded. As though she hadn't used her vocal chords in weeks. All eyes turned to her and her cheeks flushed a deep red.

"What did you say?" Bleated the bawling Spanish woman as she closed in on Nora. She bravely grabbed the back of Nora's shirt, ripping the girl up from her seat. "WHAT! What did you say?!"

"Get yer paws off'a me, woman, I can 'ear jus' fine!" She swatted the hysterical mother's hand away in a fury. Her voice lowered immediately and she glanced around to ensure everybody was far enough away not to hear. "Bloody 'ell, lookit the gunslingin' Femme Fatale over dere, weepin' over a corpse." She motioned to Andrea in annoyance, then caught the woman's eyes before getting so close that their noses were almost touching. "Her sister suffered from fever, chills, pain and suffering none of us have ever felt before. Y'know what's gonna 'appen next, right? Dat girl's sister is gonna turn; become a monster. Something that's planning on rippin' flesh from bone. Beast didn't wan' da kid to go through dat pain. That suffering. Poor bairn was already 'urting enough and he wasn't about ta fend off walkers around th'boy when we knew there were those who weren't bitten who needed protection." She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then released it as she noted the mother's tears streaking down her face.

Nora bravely reached up and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm truly sorry, lass. But it wasn't the beast who killed yer boy. It was them. Y'know dat."

* * *

Daryl had just happened to return to the campsite, after having lit all of the corpses in a bond fire off location not too far out, when he heard the women arguing amongst each other. He paused in his steps, his interest barely caught as he started to listen in on the conversation. A sudden guilt knotted itself in his stomach when he heard the mother shouting about him having murdered her son. He nibbled down on his bottom lip in frustration as he lowered his head. Daryl was already beating himself up over it. If he had moved faster, if only he had been within grabbing distance of the walker sooner, that boy would never have been bitten. The Redneck was ready to storm off again, to disappear back into the direction he had just came when the sound of the Irish woman interrupted the sobs of the Hispanic.

He stopped himself from leaving just then, his blue eyes moving to get a peep of the pale woman as she actually defended him. Daryl was astonished by this. Someone was actually sticking up for him? And it was a woman that didn't even know him as well as the others, who really didn't even know him at all in the first place. He stared after her for a moment before lowering his gaze, a thoughtful expression playing upon his features briefly before he silently left to return to the corpse fire, that way no one would ever know he had heard in on the conversation that had just taken place.

The next day the group loaded up all that they had and made it to the CDC. At first it was a dream come true for all of them. They were locked away into the most safest of conditions with amazing food and wines and hot showers, warm beds, but it was all short lived when Jenner explained to them that they were all about to be blown to smithereens when the timer ran out. A little something you would think one would find important to explain first thing when offering you a place to stay. Daryl immediately lashed out at the Doctor, rushing towards him with his bottle of tequila in his hands. Though he didn't get very far before the whole swarm of men held him back. He fought furiously against all of their hands that held him back, but eventually gave out and wandered off to find himself something to hit the indestructible doors with.

* * *

Arriving at the CDC had been a dream come true... for starters. Booze, hot showers, music... Lenora wouldn't admit it, but she had taken quite the liking to the last bit. She had taken time to relax, to meditate, workout and dance as she kept herself at a distance from the crew.

And then all Hell broke loose. Nora could feel the rage coursing through her as she remained at the back of the pack, eyeballing the Beast as he charged with a full bottle of alcohol at the very scientist who allowed them into the building... who was now telling them they only had half an hour to live as he locked them all in.

Her own desire to lash out at the cocky bastard was pushed away and she focused on the task at hand, marching up the steps to a security pad just beside the door. She began tinkering and pressing buttons just to see if her futile efforts would work... all to no avail.

"Unh!" She grunted as she shot her combat-boot-covered foot into the indestructible steel. "Rank son of a bitch!" She didn't want to die here! There was a possibility of a cure at home and she had to find it! She couldn't let her father die in vain!

Though her efforts were feeble, it sure felt good to hit something. Her eyes darted around for a possible weapon and fell upon the fire emergency axe.

It looked pretty hefty. Perhaps it could break through.

"These doors are made to withstand a rocket launcher." Said the "good doctor". Nora grimaced.

Fuck...

* * *

Daryl glared at the Scientist and despite his explanation that the doors weren't going to budge, the redneck quickly yanked the axe up and began hacking away at the steel doors. He repeatedly swung, over and over, as if this was his only way to vent out all of his frustration and fears. Because he had to be honest with himself, he wasn't just pissed for the sake of being pissed. There was no way Daryl wanted to die. Not like this. He wasn't a quitter and he never planned on being one. And Daryl would be damned if he was going to sit around and accept the fact that some white coated mother fucker was going to choose his fate for him. However despite his best efforts, eventually Daryl tired himself out and he stopped with his futile attempts and threw the axe down before walking away, placing his hands to his forehead in frustration.

Luckily though they did manage to escape the CDC and eventually the group was on the interstate moving south, with hopes of eventually reaching Fort Benning. Their plans, however, was shot to shit when Sophia went missing. Their journey was post-ponned while the group sent out a hunting party in hopes to bringing the little girl back. Daryl would often be the only one out searching for the little girl, at times when others would be resting and getting sleep. During the late nights he still searched and though each time he found no leads, he never lost hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually the group's luck went from bad to worse as Carl was shot and it seemed like Lori and Rick were going to lose their son. The rest of the group camped out on Hershel's lawn, Daryl having placed his tent the furthest away, but still within a reasonable distance of everybody's. Each day he still continued to look for Sophia. Not many seemed to notice or care that the Redneck had stepped up and put more effort into locating Carol's little more than anyone, other than Carol herself and Rick. Daryl didn't care that he didn't get much acknowledgment because his only genuine concern was the safety and well being of Sophia herself. His dedication only further being noted the day after he had returned home from his tumble down the cliff and his close encounter with death multiple time. He had barely had any rest at all and his stitches were just barely holding his wound together as he set out to saddle up again and search, when Carol came to him to express her lack of faith in Sophia's survival. He threw the reins down that had been in his hands and hurled the saddle and ripping a few of his stitches. He shouted for the woman to leave him alone as he stormed away.

Daryl stumbled along in a fury, passing Nora as he fled the horse stables to leave Carol behind. He clutched his wound on his side, blood was beginning to cover his hand as it seeped through his shirt, which he paid no attention to. He gritted his teeth as his brows pulled together out of frustration and slightly from the pain. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, as if he was swallowing the pain down as he lifted his shirt up and examined the damage he had done to himself before digging into his back pocket to retrieve a rag. He released a breath of air as he began to dab at his wound.

* * *

Nora had remained to herself those past few weeks. Of course, she earned her keep as much as she could, traveled with Andrea and T-Dog to search for the little girl that had gone missing. Her heart went out to Carol, who was beside herself with worry. But she kept at a distance, knowing there was nothing she could do for the turmoil the woman was facing. Nor could she blame her for attaching herself to Daryl, who seemed to be the only one pulling for her in her time of need.

But as Nora had witnessed Daryl's efforts to merely come back to the farm alive and in one piece, she knew enough was enough. She didn't want Sophia to be deemed a lost cause, but they had not traveled far from the highway. She couldn't have gone too far and the camp they had set up for her at one of the stray cars was going to waste. Nora's own hopes to pull the child from the peril of this world was growing slimmer.

And then that gleam of the old Daryl spotted through the surface as Nora caught wind of the fight in the stables. She watched Daryl with a harsh glare as he stormed from the scene and left the older woman to weep in fear of losing yet another important person in her life. Though Nora would have to have a word for such harsh phrases on Carol's behalf, Daryl's reaction hardly helped either.

Not that Nora's social skills were top notch, but she told it like it was and held to her points with conviction.

"My, my, my." She chimed as she approached him. "Rippin' stitches from the good doctor, are we?" Her Irish brogue was satin smooth. Hardly condescending, merely a light, feathery tease. She folded her arms over her chest as she peered down on him. "Y'know what helps wit' dat? Not lashing out at people who are merely greivin'." Her tone was a bit colder now, her eyes narrowing to slits as she leaned against a nearby oak tree. Her black hair tumbled around her shoulders in lovely curls, only accentuating her piercing blue eyes, which had the ability to bore into any soul. She cocked out a pleasantly curved hip as she watched him tend to his wound, biting the inside of her cheek as she pushed away the urge to help him.

* * *

Daryl seemed agitated by Nora's presence as her voice broke the silence that had engulfed him. All he wanted was to be left alone. He was too annoyed with Carol to even want to bother with the interactions of another human being. His mouth closed as his jaw worked in irritation, listening to the Irish woman as she spoke. He seemed to be ignoring her as he continued to tend to his wound. "Y'know what also helps?" Daryl muttered, "when ya mind ya own damn business, lady!" The words were spoken harshly and with obvious distaste for her sticking her nose in this matter, as if she belonged.

* * *

"Don't give me dat look wit' love in your eyes, Beast. It's a bit tough not ta listen when it's a cheating sister-cousin away from being the Jerry Springer Show." She chided; her tone thick with sarcasm and nonchalance. "Come now. Ye honestly expect da woman not ta grieve for the possibility that her child is gone?" Her eyes softened, though her expression remained stony. "She's scared, Daryl." She spoke his name with courage; knowing damn well it was the first time she'd ever used it. Hell, this was the first time she'd ever bothered to converse with him.

"You're scared too." She added, her tone never faltering.

* * *

His head finally lifted to meet her gaze as she spoke his name. It was the first time he had ever even heard the lady say it, he had begun to think she never even bothered to learn it. His eyes narrowed as they pierced into hers. He seemed indifferent with her as she defended Carol, sticking up for her and what she had said. Who the hell was she to tell Daryl any of this? He wasn't entirely stupid, he knew that the woman was upset about her daughter, but that didn't stop him from holding a grudge towards her for being so faithless about the situation. It felt as if his entire efforts were meaningless. Like everything he had done meant anything to anyone and that his finding of Sophia's ragdoll proved nothing. Not one damn thing.

He sat there silently as he glared daggers at the Irish lady, his expression only faltering sightly as she dared to say he was afraid. Daryl's face instantly twisted in anger as he pointed a finger at Nora before lashing out at her for being right, though he would never admit it. "Y'don't know me! Y'DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" He shouted, feeling hot as if suddenly had a fever. Hell, he even tried to lie to himself about being scared. Daryl was too stubborn in his ways keeping his walls up, to not letting his guard down. Don't get too close; don't get so involved, because he would only be let down. And so far he was kicking himself in the teeth with his task of finding Sophia. It was a false hope, one that he knew in his gut was worthless. And he felt that it would all be his fault if she was never found. "You got some nerve, lady! Comin' here n' tryin'a talk to me! I don't need no advice from anybody! And I damn sure don't need no advice from a leprechaun!" Daryl waved his arm about as if to shoo her away as he said, "So go on n' leave me be!" His voice was hoarse as he spoke these words, a deep line forming itself between his brows as they pulled together. His eyes were blazing as they locked with hers.

* * *

As if she were having the most normal conversation, Nora waved off his tantrum, merely studying her nails as he lashed out. Leprechaun? Seriously. As if she hadn't heard such a unique term before from petty, simple-minded Americans. But there was something about Daryl that seemed to tug her in. Perhaps it was the heroic nature behind each chaotic stunt he pulled? She would never know.

"Feelin' better, now dat you got that out, Beast?" She inquired with a raise of her slender brow. She dropped her hands to her sides and pushed herself from the bark, moving to kneel before him. "Y'both 'ave something ta lose here, Daryl. We all knew, even before th'world went to shit, that you have 72 hours to find a child, after that, you're lookin' for a body. As much as even I don't want to admit it: I know you'll find Sophia. You're determined enough, but I know just as well as you and Carol do that the chances of finding her alive are getting slimmer. Carol's trying ta prepare for th'worst and neither you nor anybody else has the right ta blame 'er for that." She met his eyes, unshaken by his temper. She'd dealt with much worse, anyway. "Aye. I think yer petrified, just as much as she is."

She stood just then, looking down on him and never leaving his locked gaze. "Most of all, I think yer scared dat I'm actually right."

* * *

Her words were poison to him as he listened. He wanted to punch this lady for the things she said. To deny the very words that came from her mouth, because they were so utterly and entirely true! But he didn't want to listen. He didn't want to accept it; he wouldn't! If he accepted it than everything he was trying so hard to stand for would come crashing down around him. And not only would he be letting the group down or Carol, but the worst part was that he would be letting himself down.

Daryl withdrew slightly as Nora brought herself closer to him, kneeling before him at his place on the fallen oak tree. His eyes squinted as he looked upon her with disapproval as he listened on, only to instantly jump to his feet, as if this gesture was his way of retorting to her statement regarding the body. "Ya shut yer damn mouth!" Daryl growled, warning Nora not to speak any further on the subject, but she ignored his feeble threat and continued to ramble on.

His hands closed into tight fists as he stared coldly at her, finding it hard to actually deal with someone forcing the truth to the surface. "WELL I AIN'T SCARED!" He leaned forward slightly as he screamed at her. "I ain't got no reason'ta be!" His expression suddenly smooth, his voice seething as he added, "I don't give a damn what happens t' that little girl. I ain't'er daddy! N' I don't care what happens'ta her mama neither! They ain't my problem!"

* * *

Nora knocked Daryl's hand from her face boldly. She wished not to be touched by his likes and him waving a finger in her face like he was scolding an infant hardly impressed her enough to back down from this confrontation. Nora kept a close eye upon their surroundings, trying her very best not to let hers and Daryl's conversation carry to the range of prying ears.

"Oh, don't play big 'n' tough here, Beastie!" Nora's voice boomed over his own and she stepped closer bravely. She met his eyes with a fiery defiance that was enough to spook any man. She would not back down and she would not be spoken to as if she were some mindless, man-serving drone. "Ya're scared jus' like th'rest of us and if ye're not, ye're a damned fool!"

She calmed immediately from her outburst, though her irritation grew as he explained that he couldn't care less about what happened to Sophia. She narrowed her gaze into a "srsly?" expression, folding her arms back over her chest as she registered the information, scoffed at his feeble attempts and began strolling back from him.

"Then what're ya so upset about, Beastie?" She raised her brows a moment before turning on her heel and beginning to saunter off.

* * *

Daryl clenched his jaw, his lips pulled downward in a deep scowl as he glared at Nora. He was beyond aggravated with this woman! This stupid Irish woman that dared to try and tell him what he felt. But the reason of why he was so angry perhaps was because she was dead on. The Redneck was a second away from turning around and leaving the bitch, but Nora had beaten him to it. The Irish woman got her last say-so in before turning on her heels and strolled off. Daryl glowered at the back of her head as he watched her, though he was relieved that he finally had his peace and queit that he so greatly desired. But he soon realized that this silence only made him think about everything Nora had said to him, which annoyed him. How he loathed that woman.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually several hours passed and Daryl found himself bringing Carol to the pond, where he eventually apologized to her for his actions and words. Which he surprised even himself with by doing. He showed her the blooming Cherokee Rose that was there and restored the woman's faith in finding Sophia, which caused the Redneck to feel better himself.

A couple more hours passed, everyone had been hanging out aruond the house when Shane started yelling and screaming. This caught the attention of a majority of the group as they saw in his hands the duffelbag of guns. He was pissed about something and he soon let it be known to everyone that Hershel and his family were keeping walkers in the barn. This highly alarmed all of Rick's group, and Daryl was the first to take a gun from Shane, with no hesitation. Shane was shady and untrustworthy, but even Daryl couldn't deny the seriousness of this situation. Walkers in the barn? That was way too fucking close to where they were camping.

As if on queue, Rick and Hershel came barging out of the woods down the hill by the barn and they were guiding a walker on a pole like it was a dog being taken on a sunday stroll through the park. Now that, even for Rick, was a whole mountain of stupid that words couldn't even begin to describe. The entire group of survivors quickly made their way to the barn where Shane made a giant scene for all to see. He shot the walker several times to prove his point to the ignorant Hershel and then set all the walkers free from the barn. The walkers that came out were disposed of quickly however, Rick's group was left in total shock as the last remaining walker slowly stumbled its way out. Little Sophia.

Carol's voice was the first to break the silence as she hysterically cried out her daughter's name and blindly ran towards her, but Daryl was quick to throw down his weapon and grab ahold of her. The two fell to the ground, where Daryl kept his firm grip on her as Carol sobbed endlessly. Everything that Daryl had worked so hard for...Gone. And now he was left to feel like the world's biggest douchebag for having gotten so pissed at Carol, when she had been right all along. Daryl had made such a fuss over everyone's lack of faith, only to have been shitted on as the reality of Sophia's death now settled itself right before their very eyes.

Shane, though big and macho as he claimed, couldn't even bring himself to do what needed to be done. Rick was the one to put the young child's corpse down and all that could be heard was the crying of the women amongst them as they grieved.

The Redneck turned his attention to Hershel. A sense of anger boiling up inside of him as the question repeated itself in his head. He looked down to Carol as she cried into him and a scowl tugged at his lips before his eyes returned to the old man. "Why the HELL didn't you tell us ya had a little girl in that barn? YA KNEW WE WERE LOOKIN FER HER!" He roared furiously.

Everyone turned to look at Hershel, but he was still sitting there staring at the corpse of his dead wife in shock. Maggie clutched at her Father's shoulders and defensively answered, "We didn't know who all was in there! Otis was the one in charge of rounding up the Walkers!"

At the mention of Otis, Shane's facial muscles seemed to flinch. If only he had not shot the man to be live walker bait, then man would have been able to tell the group that he had rounded up a little girl and they would not have wasted so much time and energy into trying to find- or rather, Daryl woudl not have wasted his efforts in the matter.

Carol broke free of Daryl's hold and quickly fled the scene, being unable to bear with it. Sophia was all she'd had before and now she was gone. If it hadn't been for the soft connection made to Daryl, she wouldn't have made it this long without her little girl.

The scowl deepened on the Redneck's face as Carol left the safety of his arms to be alone. He turned his glaring eyes upon Hershel and Maggie as he nibbled at the inside of his bottom lip while he brought himself slowly to his feet. The frustration and anger that was coiled inside of him was starting to unravel. His walls were threatening to come crashing down. That little dam in the back his mind that held back all of his emotions was cracking, but he had to be strong...

He gritted his teeth, his brows pulled in anger as he quietly turned his back to the lot of them and stalked off after Carol. Daryl had no words for the woman. What could he say to her, after all? He couldn't even begin to apologize for all the times he had gotten her hopes up. Or how upset he had been with her for losing faith, when it was the most logical reasoning. All Daryl could offer was his presence. Go to Carol and sit with her in silence to show her that he was there for her and that he was sorry. That if she needed him, all she had to do was turn and he would be there. So that's what he did. Daryl stationed himself on the counter inside the RV as he sat in silence. Carol acknowledged his presence by looking at him as he came in, but she seemed indifferent as she quickly gazed elsewhere, staring out of the window to the scenery outside. Her cheeks were stained with the tears that had been shed, but she had seemed to silence herself of sobbing by now...

* * *

Her breath caught in her chest. It was her. Sophia. Her bright blue eyes narrowed a moment as she lowered her bow and arrow, unable to set her hunter's sites on such a precious child; the very one they'd broken the back of love to find.

Sophia...

Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away; immediately snapping to attention when she heard Carol's hysterical scream. She winced, watching Daryl take her to the ground and watch in horror from the zombified girl's presence. Sophia had been dead this whole time and for once in Nora's entire life...

She hated being right.

"Christ!" She hissed to herself as Daryl's anger turned on Hershel, mortified from the lack of truth, from the danger the whole group had been put in and from her own stupidity in not snooping around the farm itself when they had first arrived. She could have done so much more... so much more to help protect these people and she had let them down. Most of all, she had chided Daryl and essentially told him not to get his hopes up. She was right! Fuck, she hated being right!

And Daryl's reaction was not helping her situation.

Fuck.

She watched him disappear from the group and into the RV, staring coldly into nothingness as Lori mentioned something about a funeral.

"Nora." Her sensitive ears perked and she looked away from the ground just then, meeting Lori's eyes. "Would you come with me to the RV, please?"

The Galway Archer stood just then and nodded, not bothering to question why she needed her accompaniment. All she knew now was that the group needed her. And after driving weapons into the skulls of the undead for hours, it would be nice to have a little social interaction.

Upon entering the RV, Nora froze. There was Daryl and Carol, sitting in perfect silence. Simply grieving. She cleared her throat and sifted into the shadows slightly, keeping mostly to herself as Lori began to explain the funeral that was to be held in Sophia's honor.

Nora merely fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to remain invisible in the conversation.

* * *

"We're ready." Lori had said, but Carol acted as if she had not heard a word. "Come." She persisted.

Carol shook her head before asking, "Why?"

Daryl spoke softly as he answered for Lori, "'Cuz that's yer little girl."

"That's not my little girl..." She paused as she struggled to add, "it's some...thing." Daryl seemed taken back by these words, but remained silent as she averted her eyes from him to gaze out the window again. "My Sophia was alone in the woods..." Her voice quivered slightly as she stated this, and Daryl's heart sank. He lowered his head, his brows pulling together slightly as that horrible feeling of guilt started to twist itself in knots in his stomach again. "All this time I thought...She didn't cry herself to sleep, she didn't go hungry...She didn't try to find her way back..."

Daryl's head lifted, his eyes peering over at Carol as he clenched his jaw shut tight. His brows arched upward ever so slightly as the pain he felt deep inside revealed itself for half a moment upon his features, before quickly vanishing. All of the pain, the loss...the suffering. Every single night. Every single day. Every second. Every waking moment Daryl had spent searching for this child. This innocent little girl that had had so much life ahead of her. And even though it was not even Daryl's fault in the slightest, he still felt completely responsible. Despite having already been mentally kicking himself in the teeth over this, Carol had to add in one last statement that was the final straw.

"Sophia died a long time ago."

Daryl's dam had broken. All of which he had worked so hard to build up came crashing down in a powerful tsunami. All the time and effort he had spent in proving to be a greater man and reaching out to someone had been shot to shit. Wasteful. Pointless. Daryl stared after Carol intensely, his expression stiff as it took everything in him not to completely pop off on her. To thrash and hurl things about. To scream at her and tell her how much of a worthless mother she was! How pathetic and weak she had been!

Instead all Daryl did was turn his head from her, his eyes avoiding any contact from anyone because he did not want them to see the pain that they bore. He quickly slid himself off of the counter and moved towards the door, his head turning to get one last glance of the grieving mother, before bitterly turning his back to her, with no intentions of ever looking upon her face again. He strolled past Lori and Nora, his pace quick as he made his way back to the barn, where he fully intended on being at the funeral that would be given.

* * *

Nora's eyes narrowed as the scene unfolded, nibbling on the inside of her cheek absentmindedly. She could almost feel the thickness; the tension in the air that almost choked everyone within the RV's confines. She shifted uncomfortably; the odd feeling that she shouldn't have even been there creeping along her spine and giving her one hell of a shiver, even in this intense Georgia heat.

Sophia died a long time ago.

Ouch.

The young Brannigan watched as the one man she'd so affectionately dubbed "Beastie" opted out of the conversation the second the opportunity presented itself. She could see the emotion building; ready to burst. As much as she secretly wished to will his pain away, she refrained for the moment. Let him feel the way he was feeling for the time being. She would make a point to apologize for her own behavior when the time was right.

The funeral was... grueling, to say the least. Nora's own emotions and inner turmoil was welling to the surface, though she did her best not to let anybody see. This whole scenario reminded her painfully of her father, whom she had only buried a few months prior to this day. She stood apart from the group, keeping as much distance between herself and Daryl for the time. But much to her annoyance, she could hardly peel her eyes from him for a second.

Even with what little time she had known and acknowledged the Beastie's existence, she had come to recognize those little... quirks of emotion he tried so hard to ignore. There was an innocence about him that seemed to tug her in... a mysterious "other side" that she had an overwhelming urge to see more of. Perhaps just to know that someone else who seemed so much like her was... just as human as her.


	4. Chapter 4

After the funeral had finished, Daryl reverted back to his old ways. He quickly disassembled his tent and moved his lone-wolf ass as far away from the Greene's home as possible, finding himself a nice quiet spot off in the fields. Once his own private camp had been set up, the Redneck made it an interest of his to start making new bolts for his crossbow. The last time he had used it he had one left and that wasn't going to do anybody any good. In order to start working on such a tedious task, Daryl had to find himself sticks that were suitable enough to serve as an arrow. So, off he went to gather wood for his bow and for his campfire later.

During the early evening hours the Redneck had begun prepping the sticks and smoothing them out with his hunting knife. During this time is when Rick's wife had the nerve of coming to him, disturbing his serenity-setup, and ask him to go on a one-man searching party for Rick and the others. Having no interest whatsoever to help with the group anymore, Daryl was quick to deny her request, to which she responded with, "Why are you so selfish?"

This was the absolute worst thing she could have said to him. Selfish? HIM? Daryl resisted from his desire to slit the dumb bitch's throat there as he jumped to his feet and waved his hunting knife at her as he yelled at her, as if this would further make his point. Once he had finished his typical tantrum he sat himself back down, leaving no room for an argument as he muttered, "I'm done lookin' for people."

By the time night had come, Carol had made her way over to Daryl's campsite. She made a feeble attempt at amends as she expressed to Daryl that she wouldn't let him push her away, or any of the group at that matter. She resisted his usual fit of rage and allowed the Redneck to let out some of his inner frustrations about everything that he had been holding back. Once he had finished the two came to an awkward silenced, which caused Daryl to turn his back to the woman once again, as he silently stalked off to disappear somewhere else.

* * *

"He still won't talk, huh?" Glenn inquired as Carol stepped back around the fire. Nora's jaw clenched in anger for Carol and sympathy for Daryl. The woman could grieve as much as she wished. But to take such sour words towards a man who had laid his faith and heart on the line for her and her daughter. Sure, Daryl Dixon was nowhere near saintly, but he had a heart; no matter how bruised, calloused and stitched it was, it was still there. Carol did naught but mangle it a bit more with her hateful expressions.

"He's still angry." She murmured meekly. Nora scoffed.

"Let 'im feel da way 'e feels. Sophia's death is still fresh to 'im." She noted as she stood, meeting Carol's hurting eyes. "'E'll come around, lass." That said, she turned on her heel and proceeded to Daryl's campsite.

She had spotted him leaving the scene when she had come back from hunting. Carol must have gone for a walk before she stole a seat next to Glenn. No matter. She would just have to sit and wait for him to return.

Curiously, her eyes roved over the "meditation" center. Her glowing blue eyes fell lazily upon the small stack of straight sticks and makeshift arrows in progress. She took a deep breath, held it... then released as she settled on the ground next to the pile, beginning to finish Daryl's little project.

If she was going to invade his personal space, she might as well make herself useful.

* * *

An hour had passed before Daryl finally found himself back at his campsite. He had nothing new with him, which made it clear that he had just disappeared for the sake of avoiding human contact for a while. Though, his luck was of no use this night apparently, for as soon as he got close enough he noticed the petite Irish woman seated before his campfire, working diligently on the pile of arrows he had started earlier. But that didn't seem to matter to him as he ignored her efforts, his voice strident with irritation as he came within earshot of Nora. "The hell does it take for'a man ta get some privacy 'round here!" The question was rhetorical, as he had no desire to really hear a response from the woman. He swiftly moved past her to busy himself with some things over by his motorcycle, giving it his best efforts to appear callous and uninterested in anything she may have wished to say to him.

* * *

Nora had opened her mouth several times, sorely tempted to come up with some witty retort. And she had quite a few building up within her from his outburst alone.

She bit her tongue. Literally. The last thing Daryl needed was another confrontation and she was not in any mood to give him the satisfaction of another verbal brawl. No... now it was time to simply... be there. She had amends to make so did he. Nora would do her very best to be the one to help.

Her eyes never wavered from the task at hand, still unsure of how to approach the subject of his grieving. As she was unprepared, simply sitting in silence seemed like a decent idea.

That was... if she could hold her tongue.

* * *

Daryl was aware of the fact that she hadn't moved and it bugged him. Her very presence was enough to make him feel suffocated. He felt like an animal in a cage, cornered by a larger animal that threatening to rip him apart and expose everything that he kept buried deep on the inside.

He paused from digging around the bag strapped to the side of his motorcycle, his eyes wandering to rest upon Nora as she silently continued to work on the bolts. Daryl exhaled heavily through his nose, his eyes squinting as he coldly spoke, "This ain't no pow-wow. Why don't ya take your sorry ass n' leave already?"

* * *

Good. Let him feel suffocated. This was Nora's way of helping him face his inner turmoil, as opposed to burying it all the way to the bottom. Her head lowered as he shot his stinging remark at her, allowing a wall of raven hair to block his sight from her eyes. She could feel everything beginning to resurface... everything that she had sworn she wouldn't let loose around anybody else.

But that was the problem. Daryl was just like her and she knew... she knew what it was like to bury everything inside until you lashed out on the wrong people. Hence why she figured she was the woman for such a job as this. Lori certainly wouldn't understand. Hell, the dumb bitch had come up and asked him to go find Rick and his dumbass Chinaman directly after they had found Sophia dead. The woman didn't think about anyone but herself.

Nora blinked back a few tears, only to see that the arrow she'd been widdling was so bent and crooked from her lack of attention that it was essentially useless. She glanced over to Daryl to ensure he wasn't looking, then tossed it aside and began to properly focus on another one to keep her mind off of her anger and resentment to his words.

* * *

He pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing more as he noticed her silent withdraw. The way she had allowed her hair to fall just right in her face to shield herself from his view. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was far from it and anyone with half a brain would know that. It was because of his uncertainy of how to handle social situations and not knowing how to connect with others easily that kept him at a distance and seemed to make people mistake lack of involvement for stupidity. His eyes moved to look at the crooked stick that she tossed aside and watched as she gathered up a new one to begin working on. It was then that he realized just exactly what was going on. Something so small and that others might have overlooked but not him.

Daryl stared after in silence for a moment, his teeth nibbling lightly on the inside of his bottom lip as he thought. He averted his gaze to look down at his hand that was rested upon the closed bag. His eyes moved once again to rest upon the Irish woman as they squinted. It was as if he was contemplating and struggling at the same time. What he did and did not want to do. What he knew he could do and what he knew he could choose not to do. Daryl exhaled again through his nose as he silently moved across the field to station himself across the fire from Nora. He knelt down to collect a couple of his unfinished bolts and then seated himself on the edge of the ruins that was located just off to the side of her and the campfire. He removed his hunting knife from its cover and silently began working on it. Every now and again his eyes lifting to look at Nora, almost in an empathetic way, before they returned to focusing upon the wooden stick in his hand.

* * *

Nora froze when she heard shuffling around her. Her sensitive ears perked and she watched him out of the corner of her eye through the wave of her raven locks. She quickly brushed stray tears away from her eyes and put on her brave face for good measure. It wasn't until he had settled himself across from her that Nora's eyes flashed directly to him. Curiosity riddled her gaze before he had plucked up a few stray, unfinished arrows and began working on them.

No harsh words, no hatred and no lashing out. Simply a comforting silence that seemed to hug her very soul. Now and again, their eyes would meet in an awkward level of understanding. There was a certain solace in this moment, she thought to herself as her eyes shifted back to the arrow in her hands, which was beginning to take mold perfectly. She said nothing, merely allowing the calming nature of his presence consume her and time itself.


	5. Chapter 5

Randall. A face, a name and a first impression that Nora immediately distrusted upon arrival. Something in his eyes held a painful familiarity to the gazes of criminals that she had dealt with so many times before stumbling upon this group. Rick had taken him 18 miles out to leave him to fend for himself. All to no avail, it seemed. He knew Maggie. He could know where the farm was.

So now they were stuck with him until the group reached a final decision, sending Daryl in to interrogate him. It'd be good for the Beastie, she thought to herself as she rested her spine against the door of the barn, listening intently to their conversation.

Maybe he'd be able to let out some proper rage.

* * *

Right off the bat Daryl didn't like Randall. Something in his gut told him that this kid was no good and that not much better could be said about the group he came from. His intuition, he found, was dead on as he was given the task of interrogating the little bastard. Daryl was out in the shed for several hours as he worked to pry and dig for answers. For a majority of the duration, Randall had done nothing but waste Daryl's time, cause the redneck to grow aggitated. His patience was running out. "I told you!" Randall squeaked, being the pathetic weasel that he was.

Daryl grabbed the boy by his shirt colar and jerked him upwards so that their faces were inches apart as he growled, "You've told me shit!"

The boy was frightful of the redneck's wrath, and squirmed beneath his grip. He was nervous as hell as he finally broke down and gave in to the Redneck. Randall spilled the beans about everything. About his group and the things they did. It was heavily hinted that they men in his party often slaughered the men of survivors they came across, while leaving the women alive to rape and abuse. This angered Daryl more than anything. He stood stiff, his brows narrowed as his eyes pierced into Randall while he silently listened to the boy go on. Nora and Carol immediately came to his mind first. The thought of some scum pig bastard laying their fingers upon either of them...

Daryl quickly clenched balled his hands and brought his right fist firmly across the boy's face. He pulled back and swung again. Over and over as the thoughts played through his mind. He could not get his hands upon the entire group of men that were responsible for such monstrous acts and so he took it out on the next best thing; Randall.

After several long minutes of beating the teen until he was unconscious, Daryl exited the shed, where he saw that Nora had been eagerly listening to and watching from the other side of the door. His eyes met with hers, his features abit rough. His hands were bloodied, his knuckles having been made raw from all of the punching he had done. He averted his eyes from her, his right hand moving to rest upon the strap of his crossbow, which was slung over his back. "How long ya been listenin'?" He inquired with the raise of a brow. The question was asked almost as if he was hesitant about her seeing him like he had been. As if she would judge him for being so cruel in his beatings to the boy. Which was unusual to him, as he generally never cared what others thought of him.

* * *

Nora perked from her spot when she overheard the boy's words on women; on what they did to them. Rage boiled in her blood as she heard Daryl fall silent. Was he going to stop? Storm out? She certainly hoped not. He had taken on the ability to beat the kid into oblivion if he wanted to and at that point... Nora almost wished she could've been given such a gift.

BAM! BAM! THUD!

Nora almost relished the sound of the boy's whimpers and pleas. As if they were the most exotic aphrodisiac, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the barn door for a few moments as she clutched one of T-Dog's du rags in her hand, along with a large bottle of water. She never thought she'd love such a brutal sound so much.

After a short time, the noise stopped. She could hear Daryl collecting his things and turned her head as the barn door opened. Nora caught a flash of Randall, limp on the floor, bloodied and broken. Good.

She turned to her Beastie as he inquired how long she'd been there. At first, Nora didn't pay heed to the question, merely observing his aversion from her piercing blue eyes. She leaned over slightly, catching his line of sight and forcing him to meet her gaze. She froze a moment, noticing his inner turmoil. Her own told him not to be ashamed.

She looked down a moment, opening the bottle of water and pouring some on the du rag. She squished the excess out of it before motioning to him.

"Give us yer 'ands a moment, Beastie." She said, her tone much more calm and soothing than intended.

* * *

Daryl leaned back a little as she leaned towards him to get a look at his face, a little uncomfortable at how she had forced him to look at her that way. Though by doing so it allowed the Hunter to see her curious eyes as they searched his. He lowered his head a moment, his eyes moving to stare at the dirt beneath his feet as he waited to hear whatever opinion she had. To willingly take whatever lecture she threw at him. But Daryl was surprised, for no words of scolding came from her. Instead the Irish woman gently asked for him to show her his hands, as she dampened the cloth in her grasp.

He raised his head quickly, as he stared at her in confusion for a split second. As if he had never been asked such a thing before in his life. He glanced down at his hand, which was still firmly wrapped around the strap of his crossbow, before returning his hues to meet hers. This was nothing he had happen before. Growing up with his childhood, he never had anyone to take care of him or nurture him. Daryl seemed hesitant, but slowly lowered his hand from its place around the strap and extended towards her. He moved almost as if he was cautious, his right brow was slightly raised and his eyes were narrowed as he watched intently and curiously as she began to clean off his hands. All the while occasionally removing his sights from her working hands to stare at her when she wouldn't notice.

* * *

He looked like a deer trapped in headlights for a moment. Nora's brave gaze never faltered, letting him know she could be trusted with such a simple task. She reached out as he extended his hand to her; nimble, soft digits curling around his own calloused ones as she began to dab away the blood. She took her pouty bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated solely on the wounds that formed in the wake of his rage. Now and then, her silken thumb would accidentally stroke against the hardened, stiff flesh of his palm and her eyes would falter.

"Me Da told me somet'in' a while back. Before the breakout." She murmured in a tone that was hardly above a whisper. Her eyes were more focused now, as though talking about her father was a totally foreign concept to her. "'E told me that the innocent were to be protected at all costs... because we ne'er knew when they wouldn't be around anymore." Her voice trembled somewhat as she remembered those words; trying hard not to let her emotions rise to the surface.

She proceeded to pour a bit more water over his wounds before she did her final dabbing. Nora met his eyes bravely when she finished and ran her bubblegum tongue over her parched bottom lip before speaking one last time.

"Randall is not an innocent. He is a liability." It took her a moment to realize she was still holding onto the Beast's hand. She pulled it back; as though burned from his touch. "You have every right to be proud of da mess you made of 'im."

She had turned on her heel to leave, but paused mid-step and turned back to him.

"And th'next time Rick asks you to 'ave a little chat wit'the boy? Send an invite my way, would yah? I could use a good punching bag." That traditional Nora Brannigan smirk appeared on her face and she flashed him a small wink before she disappeared around the corner of the barn.

* * *

Daryl watched in silence as she began to dab at his bloodied knuckles. The feeling of her gentle and smooth fingers of the hand that held his felt unusual to him. He had never held hands with anyone before and this had to be the closest he probably ever would get to doing such a thing. His crystalline hues were focused intently upon the hand that washed away the blood, watching as they worked delicately around his open wounds. His eyes quickly moved to her face when her voice broke the surprisingly soothing silence that had surrounded them. He listened quietly as she shared with him what her father had once told her and could hear the struggle in her voice. It was evident, even to him, that this man had been an extremely important figure in her life. He squinted his eyes, his expression smoothing as she finished, realizing exactly what she was doing by telling him this. This was her way of letting him know that she backed him up on what he had done.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze as she stated that Randal was a liability. He searched her eyes thoughtfully for a moment before she suddenly jerked her hand from his. This caused him to slowly pull back, his head lowering to look at his cleaned knuckles, examining them, before returning his hand to the strap of his crossbow. He lifted his gaze, seeing Nora's typical corkiness returning to her as she spoke of inviting her to the interrogation next time. The corner of his mouth tugged so slightly that it was hard to tell they had even moved at all, as he lightly smirked to her. All he offered her apart from that was a gentle nod of his head, his blue hues locking with hers before lowering his head to the ground slightly as his body turned to move in the opposite direction.


	6. Chapter 6

Later that day the group had disputed about what needed to be done with Randall. It was decided that everyone would be given the afternoon to think before deciding on a choice for a vote. Randall lives or he dies. That was it. Dale made many attempts to persuade everyone not to kill the boy. When Daryl was approached by him there was a lot of off topic things discussed, such as his importance to the group and Rick and Shane. A lot of things that made Daryl question his role in the group. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made him realize just how attached he had grown to these people. Which he would never willingly admit. At least not easily.

That night the decision to kill the boy came and it was Shane and Daryl that went out with Rick to see that it got done. Which it would have, if Carl had stayed in the damn house! Daryl kicked himself in the teeth for this occurence, for if Daryl Dixon had told the boy to stay in the house, the boy would have stayed in the mother fucking house! However, since the Lori Prodigy in-the-making was there, Rick suddenly changed his mind, which greatly annoyed Daryl more than he would blatantly say. He quickly grabbed ahold of the back of Randall's shirt collar and drug him out of the barn to begin to take him back to the shed.

While being completely alone in the confines of the shed, Daryl's hand wrapped firmly around the handle of his hunting knife as he eyed the boy down. His eyes bore down on him like a Hunter about to take down a deer. He had barely even had time to get started on his task of doing everyone a favor by killing this boy, when Dale's shrill screams filled the air. In an instant Daryl barged out of the shed and was rushing towards the direction of the sound. He was the first to the scene.

Daryl saw the walker tearing the old man apart and instantly knocked it off of him before silently taking care of it with his hunting knife. He quickly rolled off of the undead corpse and knelt himself beside Dale, his eyes wide as he saw the damage that had been done in such a short amount of time. He quickly jumped to his feet and shouted. "OVER HERE! HELP!" His voice carrying loudly across the open fields to where the other survivors could hear and be able to easily pinpoint them. He knelt beside the old man, his voice softening as he lied, "You're gonna alright! Hang in there, brother."

* * *

Through time, Nora seemed to shy away from Daryl. Though she did not avoid him, she made no effort to see him. Some distance seemed to be a necessity after such a brush as that. She had resorted back to her shell and closed off the world with a cold shoulder and an absentminded wave, if anybody was lucky.

Nora had closed herself off from the group a bit more when Dale had attempted to persuade her to stand for the boy.

"I'm not playin' part in yer little rescue mission, Dale. Y'know dat." Nora chided him, knowing damn well what he was going to ask before the words even left his mouth. "I'm sorry. As much as I'd like ta, I can't."

"We're talking about a boy's life." He reminded her. Nora whipped to face him.

"We're talking about a young man wit' a conscious mind, knowingly participating in criminal activities. He raped, pillaged, plundered and pilfered. He was gonna bring his crew here to have some fun. He deserves a good hangin'." She retorted, her tone cold and cruel.

"How do you know?!" He pleaded desperately.

"Dale... yah can't be that naive to th'ways o'dis world." She made a sympathetic face and shrugged. "Look around you. Look at the paradise we got here. We got a good t'ing goin'. People on the outside will want a piece. Grass is always greener, dat sorta shit."

She immediately regretted her cruelty as her heart clenched. The shrill scream of pain and terror that ripped through the air made the blonde hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She bolted from the barn and rushed to the sound, following close behind Daryl.

"OY! OVER 'ERE!" Nora shouted to the group as she waved her arms frantically. "HELP!" But it was too late. The moment she laid eyes on Dale's mangled corpse and panic-stricken eyes, she knew... he was a goner. "Dale... Daryl, we can't..." She muttered as she knelt down on the other side of the old man, glancing back now and again to see the group rushing to the scene. "We're too late."

* * *

Daryl's gaze met with Nora's as she spoke the words he already knew himself. The truth was that Dale was a dead man. He averted his eyes from her to look at the oncoming group as they rushed over. Rick was quick to shout for Hershel, demanding that the veternarian get out there and try to save the old man. But everyone knew that that was not possible. The man could not perform miracles.

The group struggled. Tears and fear welled in their eyes as they held each other and turned their faces from the horrific sight. Rick's hand moved to his pistol as he slowly removed it from its holster, his eyes bearing a pain that no one could even begin to imagine comparing to. Daryl glanced over at their leader and he knew all too well that, even Rick couly only handle so much. The weight on his shoulders was crushing him and if he did this it would only add to the burden he carried. In silence, Daryl slowly extended his hand, his fingers moving to curl around the upper portion of the gun, as his eyes met with Rick's. The two stared at one another in a mutual understanding, before Rick willingly stepped back and allowed the Redneck to take his gun from him.

Daryl swallowed, his face blank as he lowered himself to his knee, being sure to be as respectful and delicate as well as the situation allowed him. His eyes traveled to rest upon Dale's face, his expression turning to a sorrowful one as he cocked the gun and aimed it at his head. His voice was soft as he spoke, "Sorry, brother." BANG.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day the clean-up duty was left in the hands of Shane, Andrea, T-Dog, Daryl and Nora. The five of them went around various parts of the farm to take down whatever walkers had stumbled their way upon the land to feast upon the cattle. The task was a long and tedious one, given the fact that the Greene's property was quite large. But the group completed their mission in just under a couple of hours before returning to the house.

Daryl had restationed his tent back with the others a few days prior and was on his way to it when they had returned. His crossbow was strapped over his back and he was thankful for that night that Nora and He had spent making a dozen of new arrows, because he would definitely be needing them. His hand was at its usual place around the strap as he strolled across the lawn, passing by the members of their group as they gathered around the camp in various spots to prepare for lunch. His eyes moved in different directions as he silently observed each of them, only to stop as they rested upon Nora, who was seen not too far off to the side, further away from the group. She seemed preoccupied as she tried to deal with something that seemed to be wrong with her hand. Daryl half paused in his step as he noticed this before quietly making his way over to her out of curiosity.

Upon approaching her, he quickly noted the blood that had stained the palm of her hand and could clearly see a gash positioned diagnally across it. She was trying to take care of it herself and Daryl felt compelled to return the favor that she had done for him last night. He squinted his eyes as he silently reached over, intrudingly but without a care, as he grabbed at her hand. Though he did it surprisingly gentle as he examined her wound more closely. "Ya ain't s'posed ta be clumsy like the rest of 'em." He quipped, though it was evident he was only joking with her. He released her hand from his hold and dug into his back pocket, where he removed a red rag.

Ignoring the stares she would most likely be giving him, Daryl returned his hand to hers, lifting it up higher and closer towards him as he began to clean at her wound, much like she had done for him, only with much less grace.

* * *

Nora watched as Daryl put an end to Dale's suffering. Brother. Dale's shocked face could barely comprehend all that was going on. The innocence splayed on his face only furthered Nora's memories of her discussion with him about Randall. Naivety was not a good trait to have around these parts. Dale was an idiot and went out on his own. As much as the young Brannigan woman wanted to call him an idiot for doing something so stupid, she couldn't. All she could do was bow her head as she felt those painfully familiar tears sting her eyes. One actually managed to trek from the corner and trickle along the alabaster flesh of her cheek, only to fall from her chin and become forgotten in the sea of blood and gore on the ground.

"Sunovabitch." Nora mumbled to herself as she bit into the short fabric, attempting to tie it around her hand. Sure, she was a skilled fighter. She'd even gained kudos from T-Dog, Shane and Andrea herself on her skills after she had finished off a walker who was coming up behind the trigger-happy blonde. Though she barely cared for the last, she was proud enough to have made a bit of a name for herself.

But even the strongest warriors had their wounds. Nora's came from a stray nail in one of the boards of the wooden fence when she hopped it to attack a walker. Of course, she had done her best to hide it from the group. It was a decent-sized gash, but it was nothing she couldn't handle on her own.

She glanced over when the Beast approached her; a bit of the fabric still clenched between her teeth as she tried to tighten it around the wound.

"Hi." She muffled out against the cloth, grunting slightly as she proceeded with the garment.

But it was when Daryl had bravely reached out to grasp her hand that her eyes had gone slightly wide in shock. She stared at him as he revealed the gash and began tending to it properly, murmuring something about her clumsiness. A breath of a laugh escaped her and a hint of a smile played upon her lips.

"Aye. But every superhero has an off day, right?" She replied, studying his movements and noting his poor attempt to be as graceful as she. "Ouch!" She hissed when his fingers brushed over a tender spot near the wound, almost tempted to jerk her hand back from him.

* * *

The Redneck made no effort to respond to her superhero comment, but instead silently continued to clean her wound, only to stop half a moment when she had hissed at him as he accidentally brushed a calloused finger across a portion of her cut. He mumbled out an apology, "Sorry..." before he finished wiping the blood off. His eyes shifted to meet hers as she studied him, his hands moving to wrap the red rag around her hand, before his eyes returned to watch what he was doing. He tied the red material snug to her palm before lifting his hues to rest upon her again, where he noticed that she was still gawking at him curiously. But that wasn't just it. There was more to it. There was more behind her gaze that he couldn't quite put his finger on, because he had never had anyone look at him in such a way before.

* * *

Hearing his apology startled her, having never heard such a phrase exit his lips before. Nora's eyes traveled to the work he was doing now and then, but those cerulean orbs couldn't seem to pry away from the concentration riddling his features. That little twitch he got in the corner of his mouth when he was faltering and the look in his eyes when he finally clashed their hues together. Her mind was off the pain by now; only settled firmly upon the heat behind his touch and the way he displayed his soul in the surface of his gaze for her to search.

She wanted to open her mouth; to say her thanks... but no words former upon her lips. Instead, she was caught up in the moment of realization. He was... handsome. Something she had never bothered to acknowledge before.

Her tongue drew along her bottom lip somewhat, then nibbled it slightly as she ignored her urges to lean in just a little further.

* * *

It was new to him and he didn't exactly fancy it. It made him uncomfortable, but for reasons he didn't understand why. The Redneck awkwardly removed his hand from hers, as if he was shying away from her as he ripped his sights from her to look at her wrapped hand that he gestured to. "You should be more careful next time." He bravely returned his blue orbs to hers for a second, before he quickly took a few steps back from her before turning his backside to her completely as he stalked off to escape the unbearable feeling of being suffocated.

* * *

Nora had opened her mouth to reply, but he had left before she'd had the chance. So, she merely sat; stumped and speechless for the first time in her life. While she watched his back retreat, she gulped hard; eyes wide, chest now heaving as though she'd run a marathon and her heart beating so hard against the marrow bars of her ribcage that she was almost positive it would burst through and plop into her hands.

"I'll try." She murmured before she forced herself up and got back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day is when all hell broke lose. Randall had escaped, or so Shane claimed, and that left the men to go and search for the little rat bastard. Eventually night fell and Daryl, Glenn, and Nora found Randall, but he was no living person anymore. Daryl was the one to examine the body and point out that he had died to a broken neck. Not too long after the three had returned to the Greene's residence, it was noted that Rick and Shane had yet to return. This time when Lori asked him of a favor, Daryl agreed to go out and look for her husband. However upon exiting the house, his eyes soon rested upon a horde that was quickly heading straight for them.

The plan to stay and fight was tossed in the air when Hershel stated he would die rather than leave his farm, which Daryl responded by hopping over the banister with his crossbow in hand. "It's as good'a night as any." He mumbled before heading off towards his motorcycle.

* * *

The army of walkers closing in on the farm; the groaning, the hunger and the oncoming doom only caused the Galway Archer to snap directly up from her post in the corner of the porch. She had already armed herself to the hilt, due to the group's previous investigation regarding Shane's lost prisoner. But now, she had other things to worry about than one dumb, dead bastard... maybe even a hundred dead bastards.

When it was decided that they would stay and fight, Nora's eyes flashed with worry and her stony expression faltered as Daryl swung his legs over the banister and began marching off to look for Rick and his son. She sped up, clearing the banister with ease and landing gracefully on her feet.

"Beast!" She called out, jogging to catch up with him. "I'm comin' wit' yah."

* * *

Daryl paused when he heard the Irish woman call after him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, before he continued walking, ignoring Nora as she stated she was coming with him. "I ain't got time to babysit!" His voice was bold as he tried to come off as distant. The last thing he really wanted was for Nora to join him on his suicide mission of running all over the walker-infected farm in hopes of finding Rick and Carl. "Go on n' help the others!" Daryl dished out this order to her, his pace never faltering as he continued his way over to the motorcycle.

* * *

"Babysit?!" Her cheeks flushed a deep red in anger as she smacked him in the arm. "Yah know damn well I can hold me own in a fight and ya'd be lucky as a horse shoe if I came along! I wanna 'elp you and now is not the time to play the proud cowboy! Not with a horde this big-would you STOP?!"

She cut in between him and his beloved motorcycle. If only to be heard and not brushed off like the rest of the people he continuously pushed away.

"Daryl." Her eyes were wide, pleading. Unafraid of anything else except the possibility that something could happen to him. "Please."

I want to help. I want you to be safe. I can't lose you. C'mon, Nora, get dat tongue into gear!

"Please..."

* * *

Daryl ignored her retorts as his babysit comment seemed to have seriously pissed her off. But that was the least of his worries. He had grown accustom to her little outbursts, much like she had to his. All he did in reaction to her smacking his arm is slightly turn his head in her direction with a grimace, almost as if to say "rly?" before returning his sights to his bike. Though he made no effort to really make eye contact with her, or even acknowledge that she was talking to him, he was still listening to every word she said. This, of course, did not settle well with the Irish woman, as she quickly stepped up between him and the motorcycle. A hint of annoyance presented itself upon his face as his crystalline hues finally rested upon her. She spoke his name and he nibbled at the inside of his bottom lip, his brows twisting together as he witnessed the worry in her voice and saw the way her eyes were practically pleading to him. They didn't have time for this!

"I can't be here ta' save all'a y'all! I got ta find Rick. Group needs'im more n' they realize. Group can't lose all three'a us." Daryl stated. And though he spoke with truth, it was almost as if he also had a hidden meaning in there. Like it wasn't just the group that couldn't lose her, but him. "Ya gotta keep 'em safe." Daryl leaned towards her a little, slightly bringing himself to her level as he extended an arm to reach past her to reach the bag on his motorcycle. He pulled his hand out and within it grasped one of the two firearms he had. He held the gun out to her, knowing that she was never one to use or rely on guns, but he felt it necessary. "Ya try not ta' be clumsy this time, Leprechaun. Gettin' too close could cost ya." This was his way of really expressing his concerns for her in dealing with the sea of the undead.

* * *

Nora clenched her jaw; her knuckles white as a ghost while she gripped her bow in her hands. She loathed the worry she could see mirrored in his eyes and in his tone. It only made her mind weak... to the point of actually accepting his decision and letting him go out there on his own. Who even knew if Rick and Carl were still alive? Would it be worth facing such a horde just to find them dead?

She knew the truth. It was well worth it, considering Rick's value to the group and Carl's value as an innocent child; as his progeny. Nora chewed the inside of her cheek and reached out, snatching the gun from him as she bravely stole a step closer. She took in his features for a moment, not willing to believe that this could very well be the last time she'd ever see him.

"You better come back, Beast." She snapped, her tone cold with a warning. If he didn't come back... she'd damn well lose her cool. She barged past him just then, shamelessly whacking her shoulder into his strong arm before she proceeded to fight with the group.

These walkers weren't gonna know what hit them when she was through.

* * *

Never expecting the fact that this would possibly be the last time he saw her face, Daryl turned away from Nora after she had warned him and made her exit. He seated himself upon the motorcycle, firing it up as his eyes trailed across the property to watch as the young woman disappeared to defend the home with the others.

Eventually the group left the farm, and in the midst of all the chaos all of them had managed to get separated in the process of fleeing. Daryl had found Carol and saved her, deciding it was best to go to the highway where they had lost Sophia. The idea turned out to be a smart one, as everyone else started regrouping there as also. Well...not everyone.

Andrea and Nora had yet to show up. A few people mentioned that the two had had their hands full with the infected the last time they had seen them. They felt that the two had surely died. Daryl was not so quick to assume such a thing as he offered to go back and look for them immediately. Rick, however, stated it was too risky to go back now. Daryl seemed hesitant to obey this indirect order, but remained where he was as the others began to throw up ideas of where to go and what to do. Once everything had been decided Daryl paused as he made his way back to the motorcycle, his eyes trailing off in the direction where Hershel's property would be. It didn't seem right to be leaving, but he knew that Rick was probably right. There was no point in Daryl making another Sophia journey out of this. All that did was lead to a long road of failures and disappointment. "Daryl..?" Carol's voice broke his train of thought. The Redneck turned his sights upon her and noticed that she was looking at him concerned. Daryl quickly wiped any worries he may have had on his expression and swiftly hopped upon his motorcycle before starting it up.


	9. Chapter 9

A few days had passed since the group had left Hershel's home. Having no real shelter, the lot of them had to make best with what they had; each other. Every night they rotated watch duties. Daryl seemed to take the most watches and often stayed awake the longest out of anyone who was given the task. Mostly because he found that he couldn't find sleep very easily these nights. One particular night he had stationed himself off to the side to have what little of privacy he could to himself, but stayed within a watchful eye of the group as they all slept. His hands fidgeted with one of the last remaining bolts he and Nora had made, his eyes staring blankly at the wooden object as he stood in silence. He twirled the small arrow around in his fingertips as he thought. He couldn't shake the feeling that they had abandoned Nora and Andrea and that they were out there somewhere...All alone and provisionless.

Though Nora was a woman that could handle her own, the Redneck still couldn't help and feel like something horrible was going to happen to them, if it hadn't already. Afterall they were just two women. Not that Daryl was necessarily sexist, but he knew better than most that even the toughest of women still had their weaknesses. His mind kept stumbling onto his first memory of the Irish woman. She had barely been clinging to consciousness when he found her bleeding out in the woods. What if she found herself in another situation like that and he wouldn't be there to save her this time..? Daryl frowned at this, his brows pulling together as he tried to ignore his concerns.

"You're worried 'bout them aren't ya?" The voice of the Sheriff broke the silence.

Daryl looked up, surprised that he had not heard the man get up in the first place. His eyes searched Rick's for a moment before returning to settle upon the wooden arrow. He had no words for Rick. No response.

Rick shook his head, by know having gotten a pretty good idea on how Daryl worked. He moved to place his hands upon his hips as his head dropped to the ground, while he took a brief moment to formulate some words. When he lifted his head he spoke again, "Look, whatever happens or happened to them, Daryl...it isn't your fault." He paused. "They're both strong. The two'a them will make it on their own."

Daryl released a tiny breathless and humorless laugh, so softly that it was barely audible. "I know." His tone assured the Sheriff. He pressed the sharpened tip of the arrow gently into the open palm of his left hand as his fingers continued to rotate it. "Just...don't feel right." His head turned hesitantly towards Rick, as if he was not sure that he should be saying such a thing to their Leader. He knew that the Sheriff already struggled enough as it was with the entire group and their lack of support in the things he did for them. Daryl quickly moved his head from the man and shook it, his gaze dropping to his fidgeting hands once more. "But neither did Sophia..." Daryl mumbled this and though it was but a few words, there was so much that was actually being said. Not looking for Sophia had felt wrong to him. When everyone else had lost hope and wanted to move on, Daryl had refused.

The Sheriff frowned, his brows arching upward in an empathetic way as he looked upon the Hunter. He understood exactly what the Redneck had meant and he felt for the guy.

The Redneck glanced over to Rick. "Ain't much we could'a done. The whole camp was in'a tussle." His voice was empty as he stated this with nonchalance. "I ain't worried 'bout it." The typical Daryl attitude whenever he was incapable of unloading all of his worries and concerns with another individual.

Rick stared at Daryl in silence for a moment as he realized that this was Daryl's way of saying he didn't want to talk about it. Respecting the Hunter's wishes, Rick decided to bring up other matters. "That prison we saw yesterday...You think it'd be a good idea to see what all it has t' offer?" He tilted his head slightly as he waited to hear an honest opinion from the other.

"Could be a safe haven." Daryl admitted coolly, his eyes lifting to meet Rick's. "Or it could be'a death trap. Ya can't really expect'a place like that ta be empty. Place is prolly swarmin' with geeks." He pressed his lips together, his nose wrinkling slightly and his eyes squinting as he thought. "But could be a real good set-up if we cleared it." He moved himself from leaning on the tree and turned to face the Sheriff.

At this, Rick nodded his head in agreement. "I thought the same myself. Though, I'm not quite sure how the rest of 'em will react t' the idea." He frowned partially, his head turning to look at all of the survivors where they slept.

Daryl followed his gaze and stood silently for a moment before speaking. "They'll pull through..." This was the Hunter's first attempt at words of comfort. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could offer.

Rick turned his head to meet the Redneck's eyes. The two stared at one another in silence for a moment before the Sheriff averted his hues. The two stood there in silence for a while before Rick quietly seated himself beside the tree, placing his back against it. Daryl watched Rick for a little while as he did this, before he moved to lean against the tree again. All of the worries and concerns that the two men carried pressing hard on their shoulders as they spent the remainder of the night on watch together.


	10. Chapter 10

"Keep moving!" Nora shouted to Andrea, launching her bullets left, right and center to keep the majority of the horde off of them. The blonde continued at her side, a few terrified whimpers fleeting from her lips as she continued popping the zombies full of lead. The army had managed to force them into the woods and the sun was rising over the trees, providing just enough light for the two women to see the true danger that surrounded them. "We need to find our way back to the highway!" She announced, grunting as she unloaded a few more shots.

"We gotta survive this shit first, Nora!" Andrea responded. The Irishwoman's gut twisted and clenched in worry for the blonde's safety and for her own, but mostly for the safety of the dumb redneck back at the farm. The last she had seen, he had gone off to save Rick and Carl. Had the whole group been separated? What if they were the only two left to find?

What if they never came looking for them?

The haunting series of clicks caused Nora's ears to perk as a few more undeads managed to spot them. Blondie was outta bullets.

"I'm out!" She announced, bashing the butt of the gun into a walker's skull. "I need ammo!"

"Here!" Nora tossed her firearm to Andrea and readied her bow. "I do better wit' dis anyway!" She launched off multiple arrows, taking down a set amount of walkers and continuing well through the morning with the woman.

Being in the woods for days on end with walkers at every turn wasn't something Nora had ever bargained for in her training. She had helped Andrea climb a nearby oak and the girls lashed themselves there with rope to sleep for the night. Come the morning, maybe most of the walkers would pass by them. Or they would just have to continue battling their way out.

"I'm gonna have to find some way to get me arrows. Could come in handy." She announced to Andrea, who nodded.

"We'll find a way." She replied as she watched the Galway Archer twiddle her last arrow between her fingers. "You worried about them? The group?" She asked.

Nora's head lifted to meet her eyes and she shrugged in response. "Bit." She was more concerned about Daryl and how he had faired in finding Rick. What if he was still in that barn, dead... alone... turned? Nora forced the thoughts away. "I'm assuming they fled to Sophia's car." She added.

"How do yah figure?" Andrea's eyes narrowed curiously. Nora shrugged.

"S'what I would've done."

After encountering Michonne and passing out from exhaustion, Nora thought things couldn't get any weirder.

That was... until she had awoken to the sight of a neatly kept... doctor's office?

"We want our weapons! Where is Nora!" She heard Andrea shouting as she shot up from her seat and bolted for the door. Just as a tall man with dark features burst through with Andrea and Michonne in toe. "Nora! Nora, you're okay!" The blonde rushed to hug her, only causing the Galway girl to awkwardly pat her back and pull away.

"What's dis about our weapons?" She seethed at the man.

"He won't give 'em to us." Andrea replied, shooting a glare at the leader.

"Well... I see we have a problem already..."


	11. Chapter 11

Rick, Daryl, and Glenn approached the steel gate that was standing between them and the prison. The Sheriff placed his hands upon his hips as a troubled expression formed itself upon his features. Daryl took a few steps forward, his hand moving to wrap around one of the thick bars to shake it, as if to test the sturdiness of it. "How d'ya reckon we get 'round this? Shit ain't budgin' unless we get t' the controls."

Glenn lifted his gaze to the top of the gates, looking at the razor wire that aligned it. "We could try to cut those down and climb over." He removed his back-pack from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground, where he knelt down and unzipped it.

"I vote Chinaman." Daryl piped up instantly, volunteering the asian boy.

The two others looked upon the Redneck, who was wearing a smug expression. "And why's it gotta be me?" The asian questioned.

Daryl shrugged as he moved away from the gate a few steps. "'Cuz it's always you doin' that kinda stuff."

"Fair enough." Glenn responded, defeatedly before reaching into the bag to search for supplies he needed. He removed a pair of thick gardening gloves and some boltcutters. "I think these ought to do the trick."

After the three men took time to get a vehicle tall enough to reach the upper portion of the gate, the razor wire was cut very carefully by Daryl while Glenn held it with his gloves so that it wouldn't unravel and whack Redneck in the face. Once it had been cut Glenn climbed over and landed solid on his feet before making his way over to the control room. Daryl hopped down from the vehicle, his hand returning to rest at the strap of his crossbow as he stood and waited with Rick. A few moments passed before Glenn reappeared shouting to them. "It's not working!"

"What?" Rick raised a brow.

"There's no power!" The asian responded, throwing his hands up and shrugging his shoulders.

"Well ain't that just the dickens..." Daryl muttered under his breath, his eyes trailing along the length of the fence, disgruntled. Rick swiftly moved to begin climbing over the gate himself, causing Daryl to turn his attention upon the Sheriff with a questioning brow. "Whaddya doin'? Didn't ya hear'im?"

Rick paused from atop the fence and looked down at the Hunter. "Ya." He paused briefly before adding, "A lotta these prisons have generators. It's likely that they ain't been used yet. Only one way to find out." His expression was hopeful as the Sheriff gave a slight nod to Daryl before he jumped down from the wall and landed on the other side. Daryl gazed at the empty spot on the gate for a moment before he shrugged and began to climb and catch up with the other two.

The three men moved hastily up to the entrance of the prison, where the front door was ajar and total darkness waited to greet them on the other side. They paused for a moment before exchanging looks. Glenn removed his bag once more as he dug around inside of it to remove a flashlight. "I vote Redneck." He chimed as he shoved the light towards Daryl, a cocky smirk lightly pulling at his lips.

Daryl stared hard at the asian boy as he moved his hands from his sides, shrugging his crossbow off of his shoulder and gripping it firmly in his hands. His expression was stony as he stared at the asian. "Crossbow." Is all he said, causing the cockiness to wipe clean off the Korean's face as he defeatedly withdrew and took flashlight duty. This caused a tiny smirk to form on Daryl's own face at his tiny victory as the asian slung his bag over his shoulder again and took lead with the light to guide them.

They crept along inside, stepping over a few mutilated corpses in the entry way, where it was made clear a few people had tried to escape in a hurry but failed miserably. The smell was disgusting. The Georgia heat with no air conditioning, the bodies that were spread out across the floor had been left to stew for god knows how long. "ugh." Glenn raised his left arm to shield his face for a moment as a particular body gave off a rancid odor.

The security doors that led past the offices to the prison area was left wide open, where lots of blood stained the walls and floors. Several bloodied handprints were seen on the window of the secured door, smearing downward.

They proceeded down the narrow and dank corridor, alerted by the soft moans of the undead that were echoing off the walls. The sound of shuffling feet was enough to draw their attentino around the corner, where a walker was waiting for them. A rotted hand lunged out, clutching Glenn's arm with an iron grip! A scream erupted from the asian as he had not expected the damn thing to be RIGHT there around the corner when he had turned it. The flashlight dropped from his hand and rolled down the hall, illuminating all of the desperate and hungry hands and faces of the undead that were locked behind cells along either sides of the hall. Daryl and Rick's vision on Glenn had disappeared because the flashlight was too far away and shining in the opposite direction from where they stood. All they could hear was Glenn's struggles and the ghastly sounds of the horrid walker as it groaned and fought viciously against the Korean, trying desperately to get a bite.

Daryl quickly slung his crossbow over his shoulder and grabbed blindly at the undead, his calloused hands gripping firmly upon the upper arm and shoulder of the thing before he yanked hard, flinging the walker off of Glenn. Rick moved swiftly, his feet carrying to the other end of the hall to retrieve the flashlight. The walker twisted beneath Daryl's hold, thrashing erratically as it tried to go for the Hunter. Daryl nearly lost his balance, his feet stumbling, causing him to fall over and dragging the undead with him. The walker toppled over the Redneck, its snapping jaw coming dangerously close to his face.


	12. Chapter 12

"What do you think they mean by meeting the Governor?" Andrea asked curiously. Michonne merely shrugged in response. Nora made no effort to answer anyway, not caring much for the scenario. "Look, we need to find a way back to the others." She added, the statement directed more towards Nora. The Galway Archer cocked her head to the side curiously and her eyes narrowed.

"'Ow do yah propose we do that, hm? We 'ave no weapons, no provisions, nothing to go on as far as their location. No offense, Blondie, but right now, the Governor is th'best shot we've got to get shit straight again." She explained. Andrea's lips thinned in response and she bowed her head slightly in defeat. Nora sighed heavily and shifted in her seat on the fine chair just outside the Governor's 'breakfast hall'. "Look... let's just play along 'ere fer now. Maybe once we've done our little introductions, we can be on our way wit'out any problems. They 'ave no reason ta keep us 'ere anyway. We don't have much of a choice right now."

"Nora's right." Michonne chimed in as she looked to the ground. "These fools are heavily armed. Don't wanna screw with that."

"For now." Both Nora and the ebony-skinned woman chimed. Andrea's head shot up, glancing between the two bold ladies before nodding her head. Worry settled into her gaze and she tapped her heel impatiently against the neatly tiled floor. All three of them were on edge, thanks to the position they'd been placed in.

The door swung open. In stepped two of the guards that had saved them a mere few days ago.

"He's ready for you ladies." One of them said, motioning for them to come along.

All three women seemed to stand upright the moment they entered. All three also seemed to hesitate before following the two guards through the double-doors of hand-carved maple before entering the extravagant hall.

"The prison is located north-east of the horde. It's infested with the dead, but I'm sure we can put it to good use once we get the team there to weed out the bads." A tall, lanky male who Nora assumed was the Governor's 'secretary' of sorts, announced as they entered. He was pointing to a map, which the Galway girl couldn't seem to take her eyes off of for the longest time.

"Thank you. You're dismissed." He announced when he noticed his guests entering.

"Are we your prisoners too?" Michonne accused boldly. The dark, handsome leader merely chuckled in response, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You're not prisoners here, you're our guests. Please, sit. Breakfast is getting cold." The Governor said suavely. Too suavely for Nora's liking.

The ladies obliged hesitantly.

He held a belittling smirk that made her stomach lurch just thinking about the devious activity behind it; a twinkle in his eye that screamed a foreboding, dark air of mischief and a pair of idle hands that would work well as the Devil's Playground. "Please. Eat." He motioned to the plates of full food. "I promise it's not poisoned." He joked. Only Andrea managed a small huff of a laugh while Nora and Michonne exchanged unamused glances.

Things were painfully silent for a time before Andrea spoke.

"So you're sittin' pretty at the end of the world, huh?" She said, tinkering with the scrambled eggs on her plate before gathering them on her fork and taking them femininely into her mouth... as Nora merely stuffed her face like she hadn't eaten properly in days... which she hadn't.

"We're taking back all that belongs to us as the living." He announced in a proud voice. "Consider this my little slice of Heaven in this New Hell."

"Aren't you a little too optimistic?" Andrea asked.

"Why shouldn't I be? I've managed to obtain a little smidgeon of normalcy. Of humanity. I've been able to preserve Woodbury as a safe haven for those who wish to lead out normal lives and to be a part of the human race. Those who don't want to join..." a long, dangerous pause before he smirked and continued, "well, they might as well join the dead, right?"

Nora almost choked on her food. Michonne, who had refused to eat a bite, merely glared up at him. Andrea forced a smile.

"Couldn't agree more."

"I don't trust 'im." Michonne announced as she skulked along; hands on her hips while the three women toured the town.

"I second that." Nora stated, folding her arms over her chest. Andrea shook her head and stuffed her palms into her pockets.

"I don't get it. Is that why we're not getting our weapons back? Because if we try to leave, they'll kill us?" Her voice shook with worry and Nora clapped the blonde woman on the back of the head. "OW!"

"Say dat a bit louder, will yah?!" She hissed at Andrea's ear. "Don't think the guards just on th'corner heard yah quite right!"

"I'm sorry!" She snapped back in annoyance. Nora rolled her eyes.

"Jus' shut up, Blondie."


	13. Chapter 13

Grimacing in disgust, Daryl jammed his forearm beneath the walker's chin to prevent the bastard from chomping down on him. A blind light caused the Hunter to turn his head away as Rick shined the flashlight upon them.

Glenn aimed his handgun that he had removed from his bag and pulled the trigger. Brain matter splattered all over the wall and the side of Daryl's left cheek. The walker fell lifelessly ontop of the Redneck.

He threw the corpse off of him and then lifted the back of his hand to wipe at the blood that had covered his face. Rick extended a hand towards the brunette, who grabbed ahold of it and allowed the Sheriff to help him to his feet.

"You alright?" Rick inquired, concern etched upon his features as he looked the Hunter over.

Daryl nodded his head, adjusting the strap of his crossbow, his eyes shifting to land upon the asian, who looked terribly frightened by the fact that they had experienced such a close encounter. "Ya good, Chinaman?"

Glenn gazed at the Redneck and nodded his head slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He let out a breath of air.

The three looked amongst each other momentarily before their attention moved to follow the flashlight, where Rick had positioned it to reveal all of the walkers that were concealed in the confines of their cells. "Guess nobody gives a rat's ass 'bout prisoners when it's the end of the world." Daryl mumbled.

"I imagine the guards probably had 'nough on their hands tryin ta deal with the infected, without havin' to worry 'bout what criminals might do if they were to run free." Rick stated thoughtfully as he began to cautiously walk down the hall, shining the light every which way every so often to examine the different cells and the walkers it held. A few corpses lay in some of them, torn and ripped apart by their cell mate that had changed before them. There was no telling how long it had been since they had had a fresh meal.

Upon reaching the end of this hall they found themselves before the small Guard Tower stationed here. It was placed in the center of two cellblocks. There was a giant blood spatter splashed along the window that alarmed the men. Daryl took a few steps ahead, holding his hand up to signal for the other two to remain where they were while he checked. Rick held up the light, illuminating the path for the Redneck as he cautiously ascended the small steps leading up to the door.

The Hunter pushed the door open with his left hand, his eyes scanning the tiny space of the Guard Tower, finding nothing more than a dismembered body scattered about. He wrinkled his nose, scrunching his face in disgust as he stepped over the body parts to observe the control panel. It had buttons to all the different security doors to these cell blocks, including the cells themselves. While in there he had also managed to find another flashlight, a handgun from the dead guard, and a couple of walkie talkies.

After that, the majority of the prison was mostly the same. They would enter into a new cell block and find one or two walkers bumping around freely, while the rest were stationed behind their secured cells. For the most part it was smooth sailing going through the prison. They came across a few bathrooms, which each cell block had its own. They also discovered the infirmary, which was located on the fart east side of the building, where the basement door was also located.

The three of them managed to find the generators after clearing out a couple of undead. Once they had finished clearing out most of what they thought was loose in the portion of the prison they'd be using, they left to go retrieve the others.


	14. Chapter 14

_"You'd better come back, Beast."_

_Those words rang through her head like Big Ben when the bells tolled over London bright and early, signifying a new day. They hung in the air, thick with regret, worry and hatred for her own stupidity in actually listening to him... in actually letting him go on his own without her there to keep him safe._

_She had warned him with conviction that he'd best return to her... and she was the one who never returned to him. The young Brannigan woman frowned further at the recollections as they swarmed in her chest and formed a knot in her throat she deemed unable to swallow. She stared straight ahead at the serene park before her while she remained perched on a bench. She roved her delicate digits along the feathered end, recalling the way he had so roughly slipped them into her palm so she could finish the bolt with a hint of a smile. She remembered the comforting silence that settled like a perfect summer night as they worked on building their stocks._

_"Quit thinkin' on it so much, Leprechaun." The rough, gravel tone made Nora jump slightly. But the strong arms that caged her in a tight hold immediately made that knot in her throat disappear. She eased into the Beast's hold and rested her head upon his shoulder... as though it were the most natural thing she'd ever come to know._

_"I miss you." She whimpered out, her tone silken and sweet; more higher in pitch as though she were on the verge of tears. He tightened his grasp on her instead of responding, burying his face in the scent of her raven tresses. His rough fingers clasped her shoulder like a vice; as though she were going to slip away at any moment._

_"Don't."_

* * *

"Nora! Nora, wake up!" Andrea nudged the Irishwoman sternly. Soon, the Galway Archer shot up, eyes shifting about in high alert. "It's okay! It's just us." She motioned to herself and Michonne, who was eyeing her more curiously by the second. The young Brannigan wiped away the few tears that stained her cheeks and she sobered quickly from her pleasant dream. "You okay?"

"Peachy." She replied, her tone rough. "What's up?"

"We have a meeting with the Governor. Dinner. C'mon." Andrea said as she stood upright. She motioned to the clothes at the end of Nora's cot. "Those are for you. I tried to make them as... uh... "your style" as I could." She said before she ushered Michonne from the room to allow her some privacy.

Nora picked up the clothing, nodding somewhat in approval.

"Nice job, Blondie." She muttered before she took to changing into the gothic attire. Red skinny jeans, large gothic combat boots and a simple black tank top with a leather jacket seemed to fit her style to a 't'. Nora felt like herself once she stepped through the doors and joined the other two women to go and meet with the Governor.

* * *

"Ah, good to see you ladies again." He greeted their frowns with a welcoming smile, motioning for them to sit. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." Andrea was the only one to return the grin and mention her gratitude. The three took up their places and while two sat in mute skepticism, the third decided to make light of the evening.

Discussions were tossed to and fro like choppy waves on the ocean. Nora never spoke once, too in-tune with that lovely dream she'd become so enthralled with. She picked at her food, not feeling very hungry while she tried to pay close attention to their new friend/enemy and his habits.

"Must be dangerous, three women out on their own." He prodded. Nora was smarter than that. She wouldn't give away the others.

"We've managed." She announced. Andrea nodded in agreement.

"We had help." Son of a bitch.

"Help?" The Governor perked a brow in response.

"We have a group. Nora and I. We were separated from them." She explained almost warily. Nora glared daggers at the blonde.

Just when she'd started liking her.

"Andrea." She announced. The Governor interrupted.

"Well... how many people, may I ask?"

"Quite a few." Nora jammed her elbow into Andrea's ribs and she grunted in pain. "But uh... it doesn't matter. We ran into a horde and we haven't seen them since. They might have all been killed by the walkers, as far as we know."

The Governor's eyes narrowed dangerously upon Nora, who only returned the cold stare.

He would NOT get his hands on her family.


	15. Chapter 15

"Stay where I can see you!" Lori hissed to Carl as he rushed past her to go to the seating area outside the Cell Block. She shook her head, her hands upon her hips as she watched him run off, appearing as if he had brushed off her warning.

Rick and Daryl glanced over at her from the table they had stationed themselves at. There was a layout of the whole Prison that they had located in the main office and they were discussing plans for securing and clearing out the place better. They went over the ideas they had for the Yard and were going to head over to the Cafeteria next after some R&R to begin to rid it of walkers as well.

"I think for tonight we can manage t' rest, n' we'll worry about the other two buildings tomorrow." Rick suggested, in which Daryl nodded in agreement.

After some time everyone put their sleeping bags down and laid themselves down to rest. Daryl went off to the side from the group, but still within eye-shot, and seated himself to begin working on his crossbow, obviously disliking the idea of sleep. He removed two bolts from the quiver and the other from the flight groove and began cleaning the weapon down. All the while his mind wandering onto that stupid Irish woman.

_"Would you STOP!" _She had demanded, placing herself between him and the motorcycle. He remembered seeing that look in her eyes. That concern; worry. It was so deep..and genuine_. "Daryl..." _She had uttered his name, pleading him not to. But he wasn't going to risk it. He couldn't have risked her life. _"You better come back, Beast!" _She had snapped at him, he could almost still feel the spot on his arm where she had ran into him as she stomped past him. Daryl squinted his eyes as he began cleaning up the flight groove, the corners of his mouth pulling lightly as he scowled. "I told ya not ta be clumsy, ya damn Leprechaun..." He thought bitterly, angry that she had allowed herself to get stuck in such a situation. To have been overtaken by those damned geeks. Daryl nibbled at the inside of his bottom lip, his blue eyes shfiting to look at the last remaining bolt that he had made with her. And as much as Daryl wanted to believe that the Irish girl had made it out alive, he had to tell himself to stop being so hopeful in the matter.

His eyes tore suddenly from his crossbow to the corridor ahead of him. He stared hard into the darkened space, his brows pulling together as his eyes narrowed. Did he just see something run by..? Daryl slowly leaned back, straightening his posture as his hand moved to retrieve the bolts on the table. He slid the bolt into the flight groove and then slowly got to his feet, his hands lifting the crossbow off of the table as he began to cautiously move down the hall. He rounded the corner and pressed on, stopping and turning abruptly when he heard the faint pitter-patter of feet running along the adjacent corridor. His xbow was lifted, his finger gently resting upon the trigger. Daryl moved silently, placing one foot in front of the other as he brought himself closer to the other corner. He hesitated a moment, his breath stilled as he listened intently. Shuffle, shuffle. The Redneck quickly turned the corner, his crossbow aimed high. His crystalline orbs were intense as they searched eagerly for the source of this sound.

The Hunter approached the door positioned at the left side of the hall. The Laundry room. There were several large washing machine aligned in a row and down the center of the room were dryers. The room was dark and there was no telling where the light switch was. Silence had fallen. The shuffling had ceased. Daryl tilted his head slightly, his left brow lifting in question as he cautiously walked down the he neared the end of the row, he heard it again. Like something was hiding behind the corner of the dryers out of the Hunter's line of sight. Before he could even finish turning around it sharply, a man jumped up at him, clocking him in the face.


	16. Chapter 16

Nora had made up her mind long ago that she would break free of this place with or without Andrea and Michonne's aid. She had enough grim determination to survive on her own well before Shane had found her bleeding out in the woods. She knew that same drive to live was still buried in her domesticated demeanor somewhere and she would damn well find it if it meant she would be released from this hell.

It had been one month. _One fucking month_ of sorry, feeble attempts to escape. She had been caught, beaten for information, demanding that the girls remain untouched as she knew how to endure this pain more than they ever would. She had lead the Governor on a wild goose chase for her group multiple times and her excuses were running out. Her time was running out to keep Andrea and Michonne safe and her luck of finding Daryl and the group was wearing down quickly.

The Governor had some twisted plans mapped out for Woodbury and a theme park of red delights planned for those who defied his words of leadership. There was a demon in him; an evil thing that crawled, poked and prodded beneath the surface of his slate eyes. They burned a hateful fire that clenched at Nora's stomach every time she dared to meet them. They were daggers that sliced into every heart, every soul and every hopeful dream of escape. Nora had noticed it upon first meeting him and never said anything to the others; and he had a grip on this town and its prisoners... er... residencies like a hooker on her last load that could not be easily shaken.

_Had ta figure dat one out th'ard way._ She mused to herself as she spat blood venomously upon the Governor's large boot; a thing she had come to know well after many attempts of escape.

But this time was different.

_So different._

The shot to her gut knocked the wind from her, making her slump helplessly to her knees while the guards held her limp arms in their vice grips; more than likely creating bruises on her bare flesh. Blood poured from a cut on the inside of her cheek. Her ribs were bruised and battered from a series of multiple kicks and punches and her wounds screamed out for her to let go; to give into the punishment and accept her fate.

_Fuck death_, she thought to herself as she coughed out from the impact of another catapulted foot that night shattered her ribcage. She wasn't gonna go out like this; not at the hands of this asshole or any other.

"We could keep going all day with this, Lenora." He breathed through heavyset bleats. He leaned in closer to catch her eyes, which tried their best to give him the harshest glare she could muster. She just looked tired; worn and beaten. "Sweet Lenora... don't look at me like that."

"Fuck you." She spat, her voice riddled with the most potent of poisons. The hate traveled like wildfire from her parched lips. A part of her prayed to whatever deity above that her looks could kill just once. He wouldn't be anything but a pile of goop in front of her.

"Not right for a lady t'use such language." He said as he tilted her chin upwards. "You've drawn on my last nerve, Miss Brannigan." He wrapped his fingers around her throat, smirking sadistically as her air supply was cut and she struggled for air. "You want so badly to be out there... with the dead."

Nora twitched and blinked rapidly, seeing her world as it began to go dark.

"Bring... it." She managed before her arms were released and she fell to the floor, unconsciousness consuming her being.

"Be careful what you wish for." The Governor muttered before dropping her limp neck carelessly. He turned to the guards and nodded curtly. "Do it. I'll take care of the others."

* * *

_"Best be careful, Leprechaun. Gettin' too close could cost yah." He had said to her. She noted the sincerity in his eyes. The way he had said the group needed all three of them as though he was merely covering up for the fact that he needed her. She remembered how close he came to her when he reached out to place the satchel on his bike; a part of her begging for him to merely take her into a tight grasp and promise her that nothing was going to happen to him._

_No such guarantees could've been made in such hard times._

_"Time t'wake up, Leprechaun." He said as he reached out to grace her cheek with the lightest of strokes. Nora leaned into it, much like the heartfelt fool she was._

_"Why are ye always 'ere, Beastie?" She murmured weakly against his palm. He absentmindedly roved a calloused thumb over her lower lip._

_"It's your dream. You tell me."_

His voice faded just then; consumed by the darkness in her own mind before she was able to properly relish the satisfaction of his touch again. So rare and short-lived, these dreams were. Too short to even properly recall, but they were all she had to go on in times like these.

_"Some asshole... crossbow shot Nelson in the ass... outskirts overrun... group... Andrea..."_

The voices made her drift in and out of consciousness. But she couldn't compute the words; the very vital themes that she would come to know so well when she awoke fully.

_**"Say nothing to either of them."**_

"Ugh..." She muttered as she felt the dull ache in her head, splitting down the center of her skull from the various beatings she'd obtained. She opened her eyes to an endless abyss of blackness. Confusion riddled her gaze as her pupils attempted sorely to adapt to the darkness surrounding her. "Th'fuck." She muttered as she reached out blindly, feeling for something... anything.

She touched something solid; splintered and rickety. She pushed harder, trying her best to see if it would budge. She heard a creak of feeble wood and the soft sounds of something... dust? She pushed again, only to feel the heavy, gritty sand hit her face.

Dirt?

Panic welled in her heart, making it beat erratically. Her breathing intensified as claustrophobia began to set in. Her stomach clenched. She pushed harder, coughing as her face was hit with more dirt. She spat out what she could and turned onto her side. Barely able to move... so confined... her eyes closed tightly. This couldn't be real. Couldn't be.

She felt something at her side and reached down in a panic to grab it.

"Flashlight!" She shouted in triumph. However, the moment she turned it on, she found her worst fears were confirmed.

Now hyperventilating from her inner turmoil of confined spaces, she held the flashlight up to the makeshift coffin's lid, seeing a way out... through the dirt and grime that clouded the path. God only knew how deep underground she was.

Scribed loosely on one of those boards were the very words she recalled from her last interrogation.

"CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. RIP."

She'd been buried alive.

"Oh my God..."


	17. Chapter 17

"GET OFF ME!" The Spanish accent roared, cracking through the air like a whip. This was enough to startle everyone awake that had been sleeping.

"Shuddup!" Daryl growled, jerking the young man slightly. The Redneck had his right arm wrapped snuggly around the Mexican's throat while his other arm had his hands locked firmly behind his back, constricting the man as he pushed him forward forcibly.

"What's goin' on?" Rick inquired, his eyes resting uneasy upon the Mexican within the Hunter's grasp. He had a buzzed head and two tear drops tattooed on the corner of his left eye. His arms and hands were also covered in art.

"Found this Beaner sneakin' 'round!" Daryl stopped a few steps before the Sheriff.

"I said get your fuckin' hands off me, Ese!" The Mexican hissed, but instantly regretted it as the arm around his neck flexed.

Rick quirked a brow as he stared at the Mexican. "What's your name?"

"Why the hell should I tell you?" He spat back his response.

The Sheriff shrugged this off. "Well since ya ain't to interested in name exchanges, how 'bout ya tell me what is you were doin'?"

The Mexican chortled humorlessly. "Don't even play like this is your prison, Chinga! We were here first!"

"We?" Rick repeated with furrowed brows.

"That's right. WE." The Mexican growled.

"How many of you are there?" The Sheriff asked.

"Three of us. We're all that's left."

This caused everyone in the group to exchange looks amongst each other, before Rick continued his interrogation. After lots of heckling the Mexican, he told them where the other two were at and this led the group of men to check out the Cafeteria, where they dragged the Mexican along with them. The Cafeteria was its own small building located off to the side, across from the Yard. It was run by its own generator and it was evident that the three remaining Prisoners had been living comfortably off of the food supplies here. The other two prisoners were not too thrilled, to say the least, about an ex-Sheriff intruding on their territory. A tall, pale blonde with blue eyes was in charge of these three. His name was Paul andRick could swear he saw the devil in his eyes. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak nothing but pure evil oozed from him.

There was much dispute about who would or wouldn't be running the prison, but eventually Rick and Paul came to a mutual agreement. The two groups would keep to themselves and neither one would disturb the other. Rick swore that none of his people would bother them as long as Paul and his kept to themselves.

"Ya sure 'bout this?" Daryl questioned, concern hidden somewhere in his gruff voice as he walked back with Rick.

"Ain't got much of a choice, do we?" Rick responded.

* * *

For a few days the groups did as they had agreed. However, one night that changed. Rick and the others had split off into different teams to start clearing out a few more cell blocks at a time. The prison itself was three stories and so Rick had high hopes to using every bit of space the place had to offer, and maybe if anyone stumbled upon the place in the future they could over them their own sanctuary space. It was when T-dog, Hershel, Glenn, and Maggie didn't return to the rendezvous at the designated time at Cell Block A when Rick and the others began to grow worried that something had gone wrong.

Daryl told Rick to remain with the rest of the group, for protection purposes, as he offered to go and scout for the Sheriff. Upon reaching Cell Block E, Daryl found blood trails leading past the Guard Tower towards the western halls. The blood was fresh. Drag marks. Daryl quickened his pace as he followed it. Bloody handprints were stationed on a door frame, like the person they belonged to had tried to keep from going inside the room. The Redneck kicked the door open, so he could keep his crossbow aimed, and barged into the room, his eyes searching desperately for signs of movement. The trail continued...

The Hunter rounded the corner and was stationed in a corridor of cells. The trail stopped just outside of an open cell. His crystalline hues narrowed as he cautiously began approaching the cell. His jaw flexed as he closed in on it, his eyes shifting to look at whatever was waiting inside of the confines of that small prison.

Daryl quickly turned his head away from the scene. His eyes lowering to the ground as his face scrunched in disgust. He grimaced as he slowly moved to look at it again, this time more prepared. T-dog was strung up by his ankles with a chain. He had been viciously mutilated and ripped apart. His stomach had been cut wide open and all of his insides were scattered around him. His eyes had been gouged out and there was a deep and long gash along his throat. Every drop of blood that had been inside this man had been drained and spilled onto the floor. Not one inch of this cell was spared of the red substance as it stained the concrete. The Hunter clenched his teeth, his jaw flexing one again as anger stared to form. One of those scum bastards had brought harm to a member of his party. His grip tightened upon his crossbow.

Just then a scream caught his attention. It had been faint, but his hunting ears picked up on it with ease. Someone was in pain! Without wasting any time, Daryl swiftly ran down the remainder of this corridor and began to follow the cries for help. The more he ran, the louder it became.

"HELPPP! SOMEBODY!"

A petrifying wail ripped through the air and Daryl recognized that the voice belonged to Glenn. Some awful thing was happening to him! The brunette rushed through a series of opened security gates, knowing that he was going the right way by the faint blood marks left here n there along his pathing. He knew better than to stupidly call out to the asian boy to try and figure out. All he needed was to wait and Glenn would make another sound on his own.

Another cry erupted and this time Daryl pinpointed it coming from the Infirmary. He entered through the door, eyes blazing as his crossbow was aimed. Maggie was seen lying on the floor in a pool of blood, whether she was dead or unconscious was left unsure to the Hunter as he quickly stepped past her, his eyes turning in every direction as he tried to locate where Glenn was. Curtains that went up around the beds were drawn, making it hard for Daryl to properly scope out the area. When Daryl finally managed to locate the poor boy tied down to a bed. His wrists and legs were strapped tightly to the sides of the bed and his entire frontside was drenched in his blood. Several long cuts had been made along his abdomen and torso, parts of his skin was missing on his forearms and biceps. Blood stained every inch of his lips and chin as he had coughed up good amounts of blood. He was in excruciating pain, but that had not stopped him from trying to wiggle from of the ropes that bound him. Daryl ran in a flash over to the asian boy, who immediately began crying for the Redneck to help him.

"HUSH BOY!" Daryl snapped quietly but urgently, his blue eyes moving instantly to search his surroundings. He held a finger to his lips to warn the asian to be quiet and surprisingly the asian silenced himself as best he could. Only giving off a few softs sobs as he tried hard to swallow the pain. "Where'd they go?"

"He took Hershel!" Glenn spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes soaked from tears as he fought back the pain. "He got Hershel." The tears welled in his eyes again as he closed his mouth as his brows pulled together. He felt responsible and guilty.

The Hunter squinted his eyes, his expression blank as he seemed unsure of what to do. "I'll come back for ya, Chinaman." Daryl had started to say, but the look of fear that had suddenly filled Glenn's eyes told him that he wouldn't have a chance to leave because someone was already behind him. BAM! The Redneck stumbled forward, his crossbow slipping from his hands, his head hitting the inn table as he tumbled to the ground.

"Sonuva bitch!" He breathed as he laid there for half a moment. His forehead gave off a warm tingly feeling and he knew that he had split it open. He was dazed as he lay there, his head spinning. It ached terribly and even though he wished to reach up and grab it, he found that he didn't have that opportunity as two hands reached down and yanked him up by the shirt collar. WHAM! Daryl's head hit the tiled floor as he took a blow to the face. Glenn's shouts and pleas rang through the air like a gunshot, echoing through the Hunter's mind.

* * *

Rick glanced up from his place beside Lori as he noticed the Mexican Jose approaching them. A look of interest crossed over the Sheriff's features as he waited for the man to get close enough. He seemed concerned, nervous even. "I thought we agreed not ta bother one another..?" Rick started.

Jose fidgeted, rocking back and forth slightly, his expression serious. "You and me both, ese. But..." He paused. His forehead was coated in sweat. He was hesitant. "Look. I may have been a prisoner, but I didn't do nothing! All I did was drugs, homes! I swear it!" Jose threw this out there worriedly, his upon Rick's as he continued. "But Paul...he's psycho, man! Sabes que, he don't play!"

Alarmed by all of what Jose was starting to say and Rick straightened up in his chair, his hand ripping from the clutches of Lori as she too listened intently and worried to all that Jose had to say. "Why are you tellin' me this now?" Rick demanded quietly, his sharp blue eyes locked firmly with the Mexican's.

"Because he's been missing for a few hours...and last night he was talkin' crazy. Like he wanted to do somethin'."

Without waiting to hear anymore, Rick quickly jumped to his feet as he dished the order out for Lori to stay where she was until he got back. "You're comin' with me!" His eyes pierced into Jose as he left no room for argument in stating that the Mexican would be joining him in the search for his group members.

* * *

Daryl had just started to fight against the hand that had found itself wrapped around his throat, when the sound of an actual deafening gunshot filled the air. The grip upon his neck loosened and a loud thud was heard as Paul collapsed to the ground. Daryl gasped as he took in a deep breath and then coughed sharply before rolling over on his side.

Rick hurriedly made his way over to Glenn, where he was left speechless at the boy's condition. "Give me a hand!" He barked out to the Mexican, who wasted no time in obeying the Sheriff's orders. "Glenn! You're gonna be fine, ya hear me?!" Rick stated as he began to frantically untie the ropes that had been around his wrists. The asian boy was barely responsive.

The Redneck forced himself to his hands and knees as he tried hard to fight against the spinning room. After taking half a moment to regain himself, Daryl brought himself to his feet, using the side of Glenn's bed to his aid. His blue eyes settled upon the face of the Korean as he laid motionless. "'Ey." Daryl spoke hoarsely. "Ya ain't allowed t' opt out yet, Chinaman." He panted, his eyes narrowing when the asian made no response. His jaw tightened as he closed it. Rick glanced over at the Redneck, a sorrowful expression spreading upon his features as he saw the struggle in Daryl's eyes. "Chinaman!" Daryl took hold of the Korean's shoulder and shook it roughly.

"Daryl..." Rick spoke quietly, but it was no use.

Daryl instantly turned around and knocked everything off of the table beside him in a fury. His anger blazed like fire in his eyes as stormed out of the room, not even bothering to collect his crossbow that he had dropped earlier.

Rick stared after him for a moment, his eyebrows arched upwards and a sadness filling his eyes as he turned his own sights upon the Korean.


	18. Chapter 18

_Oh God... oh my God._ The words couldn't make the nightmare she was in any less real. Still, she recited them as though such a prayer would change everything; put her above ground in a normal world, training with her father. But no matter how she tried to see the light, blink the dirt from her eyes and find the sun in this endless night... it was hopeless. Her fears consumed her. Her air supply would begin to run low soon enough and she had to be careful as to how much energy she wasted.

"Da..." She whimpered out. "Da, what do I do?" This would've been a perfect time to have her trusted sais. Even her katana. Luckily the boards were weak, easily pulled. But the only problem was the ground that would surely crush her if she didn't play her cards right. Her face scrunched up as tears stung her gaze. "What do I do? I'm so scared." She hissed, clutching the flashlight to her chest.

_You know what you gotta do, Leprechaun. Tear shit up._

It wasn't her father's voice, she mused with a confused glare into the lid of the coffin. She shook her head, feeling insanity beginning to creep like a cancer into her brain, infecting her body and spreading a sickening warmth through her body. It calmed her; soothed her.

"Shut up, Beastie. I know what I gotta do." She snapped back.

_"Why you askin' then? Get to it."_

"Fuck off." She hissed, hating that he was right. She gripped one board that was far off to the right. She managed to wiggle her fingers through the crevice and she began to tug lightly.

_"Tug hard enough and it'll come loose. C'mon, don't be a pussy. Tug harder."_

"I'm not the fuckin' Hulk, Beastie!" She grit through clenched teeth, turning her head away as a clump of dirt hit her face. She released the board in fear and wiped the grime away.

_"Ya act like it enough. C'mon. What're you afraid of, Leprechaun?"_

"I dunno. Maybe being buried alive?" Sarcasm seemed to breed well with hatred. She forced away her tears, hating herself in such a scenario. She was petrified enough of being buried alive. Now that she was faced with it, she couldn't even fathom reality. Her chivalrous nature had faded away and all that was left was a scared little girl who just wanted to stay and die.

_"Ya're already buried alive. But that's just it, ain't it? You're alive."_

Nora paused, considering the mentally fabricated words and the precious source it was coming from. Her face contorted in sorrow and she wept for a long while, beating her fists helplessly against the lid of her rickety coffin.

_"C'mon, little lady. Stiffen that upper lip, will yah?"_

"I'm so scared, Daryl." She whimpered out, trying her best to find her footing. She was losing hope, finding no reason to live. Andrea and Michonne were goners, she was buried in her own grave, there was no telling if Daryl was even alive and same went for the rest of the group.

_"Ain't nobody got nowhere bein' afraid of everything. I believe in ya. Just shoot karma in the ass like I did to Nelson. I'll be with ya th'whole way."_

Nora laughed at first, but stopped. Those words. She remembered fading in and out of consciousness when she heard them. At first, she had thought it was just a dream, nothing more.

After an hour or so of pondering, the pieces began to fall into place.

_"The prison is located north-east of the horde. It's infested with the dead, but I'm sure we can put it to good use."_

_Outskirts infested... crossbow... group... Andrea..._

"Beastie..." She murmured, her eyes now alight with nearly-forgotten cerulean rays behind new hope. Fresh tears trekked along her cheek in happiness. He was alive. He had to be. He and the group must have taken over the prison. A smile caught her features for the first time in a month.

New life thrived in her chest. Her heart sped and her lungs sucked in air as the happiness overwhelmed her. Something new swelled in her chest and created that ever familiar lump in her throat. That same lump that he had the ability to make disappear with one word of encouragement in her dreams. But now, she welcomed that lump in her throat. She barely even attempted to swallow her feelings on the matter.

He was alive. **_Her_ **Beastie was alive.

_"Y'got it now, Leprechaun. Tear that shit up!"_

Back to him. She sniffled back tears again, trying her best not to cry as she reached out and grabbed that same board again, tugging a fraction harder.

_"Don't you dare pussy out now. Y'best be comin' back t'me, Leprechaun! PULL!"_

And she did. A hard yank forced the board from its spot and she took her opportunity to yank a few more out of place before she could begin crawling her way out of her grave.

Some time passed before Nora's filthy hand emerged from the disturbed ground. She coughed and sputtered as she hoisted her own body up from her hole in the ground. Cerulean hues tossed back momentarily to the burial site, sneering at it in pure triumph.

_"That's my girl. Now get that ass movin'."_

She almost closed her eyes as the comforting voice invaded her mind, tossing her head back as she soaked in the warmth of the moon above her on this warm Georgia summer night.

"On my way, Beastie." She muttered, feeling reborn as she ignored the searing pain in her body, bolting from the Woodbury cemetery and finding her way back to the Governor's building.

Finding Andrea and Michonne, as unbelievable as it seemed, were not difficult to find. Apparently the Governor liked to keep his victims in controlled locations and... he'd already introduced Nora to the majority of 'em with every escape she attempted.

Finding their weapons was an easy task, just as well as stealing the map with the location of the prison on it.

What wasn't easy, however, was dragging Andrea and Michonne away from surely murdering the Governor in cold blood. It took much convincing, but once it was done, all three women had bolted for the exits, determined to taste the air of freedom once more.

They had been sure to raid a few stores in order to stock up on much needed necessities, almost getting caught by a few guards in the process. But by the time they had stolen one of the vehicles just on the outskirts of Woodbury, they had successfully made it far enough and proceeded the rest of the way on foot in the woods.


	19. Chapter 19

Nearly a full month had passed after the whole ordeal with Paul. Daryl had taken it upon himself, with Rick, to dispose of all of the bodies. It took a while to get done, but eventually the entire infirmary had been cleaned out. All evidence of the blood gone. It had taken its toll on Daryl, but over time he learned to bury it deep, just like he did with Merle, Sophia, and Nora.

Rick and Daryl had had their official run-in with the Governor and his aversaries the day before when they had run into town to get gas. The generators had run low and Rick thought it best to travel during daylight hours to the town over and get as much as they could, for later use.

The majority of the prison had been cleared by now. The place was starting to look and feel like home to Rick and the others. Everyone had fancied up their own private cells. Some had placed their "cells" in the same Cell blocks as others, while some went to their own private Cell Block. Daryl being one.

Lunch was just about to be done in the Cafeteria, made by the woman, when Carl came running in for his mother. "There're people outside!"

The group of females stopped what they were doing to look at the boy, slightly alarmed by this news. For all they knew it could have been those bastards that had shot at Rick and Daryl the day before. Without delaying, the Sheriff and his right hand man grabbed their weapons and headed out fo the Cafeteria to go out into the Yard. The group of females quickly followed behind, Carl too...

Rick climbed up the ladder that led to the high watch tower and Daryl quickly copied him. Once at the top the two climbed inside and stared out at the property outside the secure gates of the prison. "There." Daryl pointed almost instantly, his sharp hunter eyes having quickly picked up the location of the group. His eyes squinted, the figures being so far off in the distance all that could be seen was that they were more than likely female, one being a black while the other were white.

The Sheriff picked up the microphone that was set up on the console, where a few giant speakers were stationed around the corners and outsides of the Yard. It would be heard easily by the females from where they were. Though it would probably be hard to make out at first. "Don't know if ya'll can hear me, but if you're a part'a that group from yesterday, ya ain't gettin' access t' this prison. We don't wish to resolve t' violence, but if ya test me, ya might end up with a pretty little accessory like your friend Nelson." A small smirk tugged at Daryl's lips at Rick's words, though it was barely visible.


	20. Chapter 20

After a few days of following the map, rations were running low. But lucky for them, the prison wasn't far from their current location. By the end of the day, they began roving over the hillside, weapons at the ready to kill any stray walkers who might have crossed their path.

Nora had never felt more alive, being out in the open like this. The women had easily become accustomed to their home in the apocalypse. There was something about the rawness of everything; of survival and humanity. Something that brought her home and made her feel like not a day was wasted on menial, petty things like social events, texting and technology. It was an uninhibited, wild nature that swooned her; something about basic survival that made her feel... normal.

This was what she'd been trained for.

"Don't know if ya'll can hear me, but if you're a part'a that group from yesterday, ya ain't gettin' access t' this prison. We don't wish to resolve t' violence, but if ya test me, ya might end up with a pretty little accessory like your friend Nelson."

Nora and Andrea exchanged looks; almost as though they were going to break down from the happiness of hearing Rick's voice. Even the humor in his tone was enough to make Andrea beam in excitement. Nora offered a humble smile before she reached out and patted Andrea's stomach to try and keep her alert.

"Watch for walkers. Dey don't know it's us yet. C'mon." She said as she urged Blondie and Michonne along the trail. But even Andrea could tell Nora had picked up her speed quite a bit. Either she wanted to get this awkwardness out of the way or she couldn't wait to see the group again.

While the group got closer to their destination, Nora had paused and the other two girls leaned over the map she was pining over curiously. "There should be a back entrance some-SHITE!" She shrieked as a walker had come out of nowhere. The groan alerted them and Michonne acted fast, lopping off its head with her katana. Nora withdrew her bow and arrow while Andrea remained safely protected between the two; gun in one hand, map in the other, quivering like a leaf. "Where we goin', Blondie?" Nora asked as she noticed a few more walkers piling in. She thought quickly, pegging them down with her bolts.

Andrea shook her head.

"Gotta head further northeast. We're sure to find a gate there, I think." She announced. Nora and Michonne nodded to one another. "That way!" She pointed with a trembling limb.

"Let's go!" Nora demanded, urging the other two along with caution. Nora covered the front, Michonne the back and Andrea on the sides.

For now, the Galway Archer's excitement to be reunited with Daryl would have to wait. Evil was still afoot.

* * *

"They don't seem too worrid 'bout yer threat." Daryl stated as the two of them watched the three figures move eagerly to find the entrance.

A thoughtful expression played on Rick's face as he turned to look at the Redneck. "Seems they're headin' to the gates. N' looks like we're still gettin' a few stragglers from when we went in ta town yesterday." Rick noted, as he watched the women take down a walker.

"Best hurry if ya don't wann'em ta be supper." Daryl added.

The two made it to the front of the prison. The giant steel gates were locked in place. "I got ya covered." Daryl stated as he gave a small nod to the Sheriff before disappearing up the watch tower that could oversee the gates. He removed his crossbow from his back and had it aimed and ready incase the mysterious survivors tried to pull anything.

Rick returned the nod to the Redneck before he made his way down to the gate, where he saw that the walkers were piling in. He removed his pistol from its holster and approached the steel gates, his mouth immediately falling open in shock as his eyes rested upon the familiar faces of Andrea and Nora. Before he could even speak a word, he aimed his gun and immediately fired off a few rounds to put down the walkers that had begun to close in. The Sheriff quickly stepped over to open the giant gate before shouting for the three women to enter.

After fighting off the horde, making sure one didn't slip inside, they closed the gates. The Sheriff barely had time to turn around before he was tackled into a hug by Andrea. The woman beyond ecstatic to see a familiar face and knowing they were home. Once she ended their embrace, Rick looked upon the pale Irish woman and pulled her in for a hug too.

"I thought we would never see the two'a you..." He said as he gave her a gentle squeeze before pulling away. A smile was worn upon his face.

Daryl watched the scene from his place at the watch tower, his brows twisting in confusion at first, but then he saw it. That black raven hair. That gothic attire. The pale irish skin. And that bow...the bow he had seen Nora use many times in battle against the undead. He lowered his crossbow, his breath caught in his lungs as he stared in utter disbelief. How many nights and days had passed? How long ago since his eyes had had the luxury of seeing that annoying woman. To hear that voice. To have her argue with him over something stupid. To have her watch him from a distance like he watched her. How long ago had his faith in her survival died?

He didn't move an inch. His crossbow was still aimed, his finger was still rested upon the trigger. He was in a trance. One that he thought he would never break from. But Rick had turned and motioned to him in that instant to come down. Daryl seemed hesitant. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

"Ya'll will love it here. It's safe. We got electricity, water, food...it's our safe haven." He smiled proudly as he walked, expecting the women to follow him as he did so.

By the time they had gotten within ten feet of the Watch Tower, Daryl had jumped off the last step of the ladder and adjusted his crossbow, his gaze downward on the ground for a moment. He didn't want to look. His stomach was twisting in all sorts of bizarre knots. His chest tightened and he felt completely suffocated. How he hated what this woman did to him. His head lifted and his eyes immediately met with Nora's. And it was intense.

The whole world stopped. Everything went silent. There was not one sound. Not the wind. Not the birds. Not his heart in his chest. Not the sound of his breath. Nothing. A whole month had passed and Daryl now found himself gazing into the very orbs that he thought for certain he would never look upon again. And he felt it... He knew that she felt it just as much as he did in that instant. That the feeling was mutual. Everything that he was feeling and experiencing in that instant was shared with her.

And just as soon as Daryl had looked upon her, his eyes shifted quickly from her. He tore his sights from her, which only made him come off as indifferent. His gaze fell upon Andrea and then Michone, who he definitely eyed over for more than a minute given her odd apperance.

"Nice'ta see ya'll made it." He spoke the words dryly, as he was really in no mood for conversation at all, but he knew that it was only right to greet them, as they had been a part of the original family they had. He adjusted the strap of his crossbow, his head turning to look at the Sheriff, who was already starting to move again towards the prison. Darly quickly took this opportunity to avoid any human interactions and followed closely behind Rick's step as the Sheriff rambled on to the females about the prison and all it had to offer.

Once they reached the inside, the entire group that was left remaining swarmed in on Andrea and Nora with welcoming arms. Daryl had stationed himself way off in the distant corner, his blue eyes never leaving Nora as he watched the young Irish lass and Andrea being overwhelmed with the greetings and such.

"We just finished making lunch! Are y'all hungry?" Maggie questioned with a big smile.

"Oh, I'm starving!" Andrea blurted out as she rubbed her stomach.

Everyone started to eagerly set up for eating lunch together and to talk and catch up with the two women. Daryl, however, was nowhere to be found by the time Nora would be free enough to glance around for him.

* * *

The initial battle seemed to be nothing new. If anything, Nora only relished the adrenaline that coursed through her as she fought against the horde with her bolts and katana. Her trustin her weaponry never faded once and even through all this time in not being able to use them, they still never failed her.

But once it was all over and Andrea had tackled Rick into a tight hug, Nora had used this awkward moment to gather her bolts quickly. That was, until she was turned on her heels and tugged into a tight hug by Rick himself. The moment his fatherly embrace found her, Nora's body almost went limp from exhaustion. Her bolt-holding hand weaved slowly around Rick's waist and her free hand hesitantly rested upon his bicep. Tears welled in her eyes at his whisper and she beamed under her blanket of makeup.

She was home. Rick was her home, not Galway, not her mother, not her dead father. The group was her home. God... for once in her life, she was home.

"Ditto, Sheriff Woody." Nora jested with an embarrassed smile as she wiped away her tears. She did a once-over of the prison, staring intently at the potential and wondering if the very man who had helped save her from her own grave was dwelling within the fortress' walls, waiting for her. Soon, she shook her head, trying to convince herself otherwise, but her heart still held a silly sort of hope.

That was all over the moment the Sheriff had motioned for the Beast to come down from his hiding place. Come to think of it, everything was over the moment two pairs of deep cerulean crashed like blue fire. Nora hadn't even realized she was holding her breath. Her heart hammered relentlessly against her ribcage. She felt his tension, his doubt and hesitation; all because it only mirrored her own. It was like time slowed, making a split second feel like an eternity. And all those doubts, fears and petty dreams were right in front of their eyes... which couldn't pry away from the truth. They were there. Just like she had seen so many times in her mind. Just like those torturous visions she continuously replayed of their memories.

She snapped from her reverie from the Beast's words and a harsh glare settled upon her features. Naturally, he had to keep himself ZEN, as he always put it, but couldn't he at least have a little more respect for the hell she went through just to get here?

Nora supposed it was fair. The bruises on her neck were well hidden and the rest of those cuts, scrapes and markings were on her torso. The only real evidence of her struggles were on her hands... where she had clawed her way through splintered wood and dirt. She mused over this silently as the others pelted Andrea and herself with questions.

She could feel the Beast's eyes on her, boring into her skull. She never looked at him once, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her.

But when she had finally turned to look, Nora noticed he had vanished from sight.

"I'm starving!" Andrea shouted as she patted her tummy. Nora grinned.

"Me too. Could eat a deer. But uh... excuse me for a moment, won't yah loves?" She announced. Rick gave her a look. "Uh... bathroom?"

"Oh. That way, Irish." He said, motioning in one direction. Hoping to God that it was the way to her true destination, she took it.


	21. Chapter 21

Cell block D... E... F

Hold on a fuckin' second.

Cell block D... C... B...

Nora felt as though she'd been wandering forever until she noticed the crossbow poking inconspicuously through the bars of one cell on Block B. She sighed, strolling calmly to the opening and peeking within its confines to see Beast himself... settled so comfortably upon his bed, twirling an arrow in his palm.

Her eyes flickered from the arrow to his face, unsure of what she should say.

"Hi."

Smooth.

* * *

His eyes moved to rest upon the female as she entered the frame of his cell door. He quickly returned his gaze to the arrow in his hands, as if he seemed more interested in it than Nora. It didn't surprise him in the least that she had come to him. In his gut he knew that it was only a matter of time before the woman tried to approach him. To try to talk to him. To connect. He recoiled at the thought. It was a bitter thought and something he wished not to be a part of.

The arrow twirled slowly through his fingers as he laid there. He was comfortable where he lay, but figured that he would most likely be getting up very soon, as it wasn't Lenora's style to simply back off when he wanted his personal space. She was not the type to give him the satisfaction. "Can I help you?" He asked stiffly, his voice a little rough. He made no efforts to look at her, keeping his ocean orbs fixated upon the bolt.

* * *

Nora recoiled the moment those harsh words fled his lips. Here lay the very man who's mere image had propelled her from her own coffin... and he acted so nonchalant. Though Nora was doing her best to grasp the concept of his inner turmoil, she couldn't understand why he would be so callous upon her return. Even through years of psychology and sociology... he was an enigma; a walking mystery that she couldn't fucking figure out to save her life.

And she had tried so many times.

Her eyes blinked tiredly; clearly in no mood for confrontation. Nora stuffed her injured hands into the pockets of her fitted hoodie, hoping he didn't catch glimpse of them as she lowered her eyes. Contrary to her normal need to confront him and lay waste to his ego, Nora now felt her efforts would be shot against one giant, defensive brick wall.

She lifted her head once more, thinking on her feet. "Don't be assumin' ye can 'elp me wit' not'in', Beast." Ye never did before. She snapped, her tone colder, crueler and more vicious than the very fury burning in her veins. It'd been the first time Nora had ever spoken to her Beast this way. With the hell she'd just been through and now... being shunned by the one man who helped her find her strength to live again... she was furious. She forced herself to calm somewhat and spoke through clenched teeth. "Carol asked me to find ye and see if ye were 'ungry. Food's about ta be served."

* * *

He stopped twirling the arrow, his eyes snapping onto Nora as she spat back at him, having never heard her speak in such a tone before. It was venomous. Daryl eyed her over a second, a hint of curiosity presenting itself in his gaze briefly before she added on a bullshit excuse to be there. "Ain't hungry." Daryl stated, being short with the Irish woman.

* * *

Nora stole a deep breath and nodded curtly, her face blank; empty and cold. Fine. Let him starve. As if she'd care.

"As ye wish, m'lord." She muttered before bowing out of the room. She paused, then turned back to him. "By th'by. 'Ere." She tossed a small paper bag almost violently at his chest, hoping to at least smack him in the face with it. But, it wound up merely knocking the bolt from his grasp. "Found dis while I was out frolicking for a month wit' Andrea." She left him with the bag before murmuring a string of Gaelic curses under her breath as she headed back to join the group.

And inside that small mound of paper was a very small amount of beef jerky Nora had come across in one of the stores they had raided before fleeing Woodbury.

* * *

A look of irritation instantly crossed his features as the brown back whacked the arrow out of his hands, which moved to collect the item afterwards. His eyes darted across the room to glare at the Irish woman as she spoke of frolicking around for a month and getting him this. He stared at the empty door frame for a good while long after she had left before he slowly opened the bag up to look inside. To his surprise it was one of his favorite snacks that he used to eat when the world hadn't gone to shit. His lips came together, forming in a line as he suddenly felt guilty for allowing himself to react the way he did.


	22. Chapter 22

As Nora was about to pass by Cell D (where the doors that led to the Yard were located, which would take them to the Cafeteria) she bumped into somebody as she rounded the corner. "Woah~!" A familiar voice rang out, as they tried frantically to keep from dropping a plate of food that was in their hands. "Sorry, I didn't kn-" They cut themself off as their eyes settled upon the Irish lady, having not seen her yet since she arrived. "Nora!" The asian boy smiled widely, his free arm moving to wrap around her in an embrace, squeezing gently. Which she would note that his arms were badly scarred and slightly discolored due to the tissue having been badly damaged. "They said you were back, but I didn't see you in there when I got back!" Glenn pulled away from her, returning his hand to hold the other side of the plate. "It's good to see you guys again. We all thought for certain that night had been the last we'd ever see of you guys."

* * *

Pain soared through her body upon the impact of hitting another form. Though it felt almost as slim as her own, it was wiry and well-muscled. Her ribs, which she'd determined long ago were more than likely damaged in some way were beginning to smart with each passing minute and it took everything in her not to scream out in pain.

The shock of running into yet another familiar face almost didn't register until Glenn's free arm came up to tug the petite Irishwoman in for a painful hug. Nora almost didn't have time to fully absorb the whole situation until he began speaking again. She drank in Glenn's giddy features, a small smile building on her face as well in response to his enthusiasm.

"Chinaman." She breathed, a whisper of a laugh fleeing her lips as she took in his happy presence while trying to touch her ribs without him noticing. "All of ye should know by now 'ow hard it is ta keep an Irishwoman away." She joked. She heard Glenn chuckle softly, casting her eyes downwards at the torn flesh on his arms that was healing rather well. "Wh... what 'appened to ye?" She inquired, motioning to his arms before she thought twice about the damage done to her own hands and stuffed them back into her pockets, hoping to God that he didn't notice.

* * *

Glenn had taken notice in her wincing and the pain that had etched itself briefly upon her features after their slight run-in. He paid no attention to it though as he had been to excited to see her. However when the Irish woman had begun to start up on his own battle scars, his eyes lowered. He seemed to withdraw slightly, his expression smoothing over and his lips pulling into a frown. "Oh. This." He raised his arm slightly as he looked at it, his eyes looking the wounds over. "We weren't the only ones here at first." Glenn lifted his head.

"There were these three prisoners that had survived...holed themselves up in the Cafeteria." He motioned behind him as he stated this. "Turns out one of 'em wasn't just in here for robbery or drugs.." The asian's frown deepened, his brows coming together. His eyes started to feel warm as he still felt entirely responsible for the others having died. "They got Hershel and TDog...I'm lucky to still be alive." Glenn half smiled, as he blinked away the tears that had started to form. "If it hadn't been for Daryl and Rick I would have been as good as gone too." A silence fell between them for a moment before Glenn motioned towards her hands, which he had noticed. "What about you? You seem like you went through some hell before you made it back. You ok?" He quirked a brow.

* * *

Nora winced slightly as Glenn spilled his story, feeling a sort of dizziness consume her. She shook it off, an empathetic look seeping into her features. T-Dog was gone? And the good doctor? Her head lowered. May the lands grant them peace, she mused to herself before her eyes bravely traveled to his own when her injuries were mentioned. She reached up, self-consciously sweeping her hair over her neck to ensure that the bruises that dwelled beneath the blanket of black were not visible to Glenn's worried gaze. Her sleeve rode up slightly in the action, revealing that the scratches on her knuckles traveled further beneath the cover.

She forced a smile. "I did." She acknowledged finally before dropping her hand. The sleeve fell back to its original spot over her hand, shielding most of the damage once again. She shifted, then winced slightly. "I'm 'ome. No bites or scratches... from the undead, at least." She laughed in feeble attempts to raise spirits. "I'll be fine once I get some food in me."

* * *

The frown remained present on his face as she hesitated to answer. In her action to move her hair, he saw a glimpse of the wounds that riddled her arms and watched as she quickly moved her hand down to allow the fabric to hide them again. His eyes moved to meet with hers, concern filling his eyes. He was a smart kid and he could tell that there was definitely a lot more to this than she was willing to tell. But after having gone through his own trauma, the Korean knew that it was sometimes best to leave people alone on some matters. Not everyone liked having to talk about such horror stories. Glenn nodded his head at her words. "Ya. Food n' rest, it's a good cure." He added, "That and the company of family." He stated this with a gentle smile, this being his way of expressing that he would be there for her, along with everyone else, if she needed them. The asian glanced down at the food in his hands. "Well, I better get this to Daryl. He'll probably threaten to kick my ass if its cold." He said his goodbyes to the Irish woman and then walked past her to head towards Daryl's cell block.

* * *

Later that night the group had made themselves a little bonfire out in the Yard by some of the benches and tables. It had been suggested by Carol that they all do this, as a way to remember the old times when they camped out in the mountains a year ago. It was also a surprise to Nora and Andrea when Lori and the girls brought a home made cake out to celebrate their arrival once again. The bottle of wines were brought out and everyone was gathered around the fire with a plate of cake and a glass of wine. All of them were having a good time sharing stories, good memories of their pasts. Some shared stories that had happened during their stay with one another since the beginning. And it was a moment such as this that made them all family. It didn't matter that there was no blood relation to any of them, because they all still had each other. Even with the party members that didnt' get along so great, they were just as equally as important as the rest. Because they were a portion of the group that made them whole. This was home, and it was filled with love and warmth that no other place in this broken world could offer or give.

"I was pretty certain Lori was goin' t' kill me during childbirth." Rick stated with a grin. He gave a look of warning to the other men. "N' I'll tell y'all now, don't try n' compliment a woman when she's in that much pain!"

"I was not all that bad!" Lori retorted.

Rick pressed his lips together as he gave off a look that said otherwise. "Well, at least I managed t' hold your claw all the way to the end!" She smacked his arm playfully.

Glenn shook his head. "I hope I never have to deal with that." He found himself blurting out, to which Maggie gave him a look. He quickly added, "anytime soon, that is!" He made a 'whew' expression once she looked away, seeming to allow this to pass.

"I used ta beat the hell outta my kid brother growin' up." Jose mumbled out as he sipped on an entire bottle of wine that he was hogging to himself. They all looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Why? Was he a bad kid?" Rick inquired.

"No. It's what my big brother used t' do to me. I just passed it on y'know?" Jose shrugged.

* * *

Nora had opened her mouth to respond when Glenn had mentioned the plate of food for Daryl. But instead, she forced her words back and forced another extremely fake smile and waved him off, sorrow immediately overtaking her features whence the Korean boy was out of sight as she made her way back to the group.

But those dim, false grins soon became something of truth and happiness once Nora was surrounded by that family she had grown to adore with all her might. While Carl blushed from the family photos Lori had passed around and the stories they swapped, Nora couldn't help but find herself at ease. The alcohol was dimming the pain in her torso tremendously and her spirits around the old (and new) crew were slowly beginning to lift.

However, her soul felt a small pang of sorrow as the young prisoner, Jose, had mentioned beating hard upon his little brother. When he had mentioned passing it along the line of blood, Nora's eyes cast down to her bottle of wine, clearing her throat.

"Aye, that's family." She added, her hoarse voice cutting sharply through the silence. Lori turned horrified eyes to her. "They beat you so you won't break."

"Not in our family." Lori stated with conviction. Andrea nodded.

"I never laid a hand on my sister." Blondie added. A long pause ensued before she spoke. "Is that what happened to you?"

"I'm an only child." She replied dumbly. Andrea shook her head.

"What about your father? Mother?"

"What is this, an intervention?" Nora shook her head and lowered her gaze, absentmindedly tracing the mouth of the wine bottle while refusing to look at the rest of the crew. She scoffed. "Nobody needs ta know about where I came from; my childhood... wha' matters is dat I'm here. Alive."

"You must have at least one good memory." Lori murmured. Carl edged closer to his seat, catching the Galway Archer's eye. She locked gazes with the boy for a moment, unsure if her story would be good or bad.

"Aye. I've got plenty." She paused, glancing down at the tattoo she had gotten a while ago. Nothing extravagant. Simply a slightly disproportionate heart on the back of her hand. Something to go along with the many others she had. "Me Da and I... we used to 'ave this thing. When I was much younger... I would try my best to wait up for 'im ta get 'ome from work. He would work... very long hours, so often times I was fast asleep when 'e came in ta say goodnight. But he would draw..." she paused, trying too keep her chest from tightening. The pain in her ribs worsened... then lessened after a few short breaths. "'E would draw a 'eart on th'back of my hand while I slept. So when I woke up, I could look at it and know dat I'd been kissed by a man who loved 'is daughter more dan anyt'in'..." her voice trailed and she let a feeble laugh escape her lips as she tried her best not to cry. She felt Andrea's hand fall appreciatively upon her shoulder. She winced slightly, but offered a tired smile in response to her adoring grin.

"That... is the cutest thing I have ever heard." Lori said, hugging Carl close to her body.

"So that's why you have the heart tattooed on the back of your hand, right?" Carl asked, grinning. But his grin slowly faded when he noticed the cuts and gashes that decorated Nora's skin. The drunken Irishwoman merely nodded and tossed back a few more gulps of wine. Carl said nothing.

"Got it done over a while ago. Just ta remind meself."

* * *

Glenn smiled at Nora's story. "Musta been nice." His smile faded slightly. "I never really had too many good memories with my family." The asian boy adjusted the bill of his hat as he lifted his gaze towards the sky. "I was kind of a disappointment to my parents..." He lowered his gaze to the fire and half smiled. "My dad was especially hard on me. A man is supposed to be able to support himself and his family and he didn't much like my addiction to games." A breathless laugh escaped him. "But one good memory I have...The summer of my Senior year we went on vacation to California. San Diego is really beautiful...We were out on the beach, swimming and surfing." Glenn reached up to rub at his neck slowly as he continued, "One of the times I went to dive into the ocean the tide pulled out and I ended up breaking my neck on the ocean floor. Doctors said it was a miracle that I was even alive, but that they were amazed I could still walk." The asian shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "I think that was the only time I was ever hugged by my father... And all of the problems between us didn't matter anymore...At least for a little while..." He cleared his throat softly and wiped at his eye hurriedly before smiling again.

"I never received much attention from mi familia either, ese." Jose piped up after the boy had finished. "Seems like my entire childhood was dedicated into findin' a way to get my old man's approval." He shook his head. "Cabron never did. Only time I got it was when I screwed up. Sometimes I think that's the reason I started actin' out..."

Carol frowned as she spoke, "I don't understand why some people do that to their kids...They just push them away like they'd much rather them not be there in the first place."

"Some people just can't handle kids." Maggie responded. "They either never intended on having them, or it's nothing like what they imagined when they finally have them...I ain't sayin' what they do is right, but sometimes it's better for some t' ignore 'em than deal with 'em properly. I may as well've had kids. I had t' raise my own siblings with my ma and pa." She smiled softly as she hugged her sister Beth close to her.

* * *

"Aye, me mother was one of dem." Nora chimed after Maggie had spoken her piece. "Highly sophisticated, self-righteous and judgmental. Dat woman could terrorize your brain an' rip down yer defenses like nobody's business." She shook her head, taking another long swig of her bottle. "I t'ink it's safe ta say she's the one person who I honestly 'ope is dead right now."

"You can't mean that about your own mother." Lori gasped. Nora narrowed her eyes upon the woman and perked a brow.

"You never met my mother." She retorted.

"My dad always took me out fishing." Andrea said, smiling somewhat as she took up the bottle of wine she and Nora had been sharing. She stole a swig and sighed. "He gave me my gun. Said it wasn't right, two girls traveling on their own. Guess he was right."

"Same wit' me, except me Da strapped me to the teeth." She quipped with a chuckle.

* * *

A couple hours passed and eventually everyone stumbled themselves along to bed. Daryl had not participated in their little gathering that night, but had helped himself to a bottle of wine in which he drank in the privacy of his cell.


	23. Chapter 23

Over the next two days not much had changed. The Redneck came out to eat every now and again and whenever Rick needed him for something he was there to help. They had noted that they were running low on a few supplies and so it was offered by the Hunter to make a run into town and grab a few things, having it set in his mind that he would go alone. Glenn had also volunteered to go but ever since his close encounter with death, Daryl was surprisingly protective over the boy. He denied the Korean's requests of tagging along and made up an excuse so that he would stay behind.

He gathered up his crossbow, slinging it over his right shoulder before attaching his hunting knife to his right hip. His right hand lifted to rest upon its usual place on the strap of his crossbow before he started to head out. "I'll be back 'fore dark." Daryl told Rick as he began to exit Cell Block C.

"Be careful out there, Daryl." Rick called back to the Redneck as he watched him disappear around the corner.

* * *

"Good job with trainin' t'day, M." Nora spoke softly to Michonne as she walked back towards the doors of the prison. The ebony woman merely smirked in response. "It's good ta see Andrea catchin' on nicely."

"Same here. I thought I'd get rusty. I just wish you could've joined in." She replied. Nora grinned somewhat and allowed her friend to enter the prison first... until she had seen Daryl exiting the building. Their shoulders collided, causing Nora to grunt as pain seared her torso, making her grunt in response. She almost doubled over, flattening her palm over her stomach. "You okay?" Michonne's words caused her to force her pain away. She nodded.

"I'll catch up." She announced as she followed behind Daryl swiftly. "Oy, Beast. Where you runnin' off to in such a 'urry?"

* * *

Daryl ignored Nora as he pushed past her, continuing his stride as he headed towards the gates of the prison. Of course his hopes of privacy didn't last too long before the Irish woman came rushing after him, sticking her nose in his business. A look of annoyance instantly washing over his features as he rudely responded, "Out." Completely short with Nora, having no intentions on being more specific than that.

* * *

The nonchalance. The cruelty. The rudeness.

The fucking nerve!

Nora had paused mid-step, her breathing heightening. She could feel her heart pumping nothing but the rage and adrenaline she had held back over the past few days every time she had been forced to deal with his harsh words and sideways glances. The saintly redneck had no idea just how easily her buttons could be pushed to the point of seeing nothing but crimson. She stormed up to him, barely bothering to properly compute exactly what she was going to say in the first place.

At that point, she didn't really care. All that mattered was shouting, ranting and raving. Maybe stringing together a few words that would construct a perfectly comprehensible thought for him to feast on and hope he had a good appetite for it.

"Y'know what, Daryl Dixon? Fuck you." Probably one of the least creative insults the Irishwoman ever could have mustered, but damn it... she was just so angry! "You just don't fuckin' get it, do yah? That the whole reason I came back, the whole reason I'm still 'ere... still alive and breat'in'... is because o'you!" She poked his chest over-dramatically, wincing slightly from the pain that shot up her side as a result. "I got strengt' from God-only-knows-what-part-of-ya, came back an' all I get is... is... just... FUCK you."

* * *

The Redneck came to an abrupt stop when the Irish woman had thrown herself in his pathing. Fire was blazing in her eyes as she glared upon him with her crystalline orbs. He was taken back by her sudden outburst. The way she had spat out his name like it was venom from a snake bite. She was pissed. A whole level of pissed he had never seen her before. And even though it surprised him, his expression did not falter as his brows pulled together in total irritation and confusion. He was irritated with her for having cut him off, but even more so confused with all that she had just said. She came back for him? She lived because of him? She got strength...from..him?

Daryl stared into her face for a long while, only breaking his trance as she bravely jabbed at his chest with her small finger as she added on the whole 'fuck you' bit. He soon returned his gaze to meet hers though, his eyes squinting as he looked her over silently. Having not really noticing just how much of a toll his behavior had been having on the woman. Daryl had been to selfish in his own...whatever it was to realize he had been badly affecting Nora with his isolation and cold shoulder. He stood in silence for a long time, the two of them exchanging nasty looks to one another for what felt like a lifetime before Daryl finally spoke. Complete confusion in his tone as he said, "What?" His eyes narrowed.

* * *

Breathless and livid, Nora merely stood in an angry trance when Daryl's confusion settled in. The pain in her torso was enough to bring tears to her eyes from that one poke she'd made in his steely chest. But she wasn't done just yet.

"You really don't know th'sacrifices some people make for yah, do ya? Th'risks some people take for ye? And you t'ink your risks and sacrifices are all dat should matter. It's bullshit, Beastie. So busy try'na make yerself fit in 'ere an' th'second someone gives ya a glad eye, ya crawl back inta yer little shell like a hermit wit' anger management issues!" She shook her head. She was getting off track. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Just go, ye're never gonna-OW!"

She had made to brush past him. But in the midst of her anger, she had wound up colliding with him, torso to sinewy arm. All the things she had tried so desperately to hide over the past few days had resurfaced and she clutched her side, keeling over at the waist and falling down on one knee.

"Son of a bitch! Owwww!"

* * *

Daryl quirked a brow at her as she continued to scream at him. She had clearly been holding back a lot of things the past few days and this had been the last straw. The Redneck stood motionless as he listened to the Irish woman roar at him. Nora spoke the truth. He did crawl back into his shell whenever people showed him gratitude or acceptance. But it was only because it was easier than dealing with trying to figure out how to fit in properly. How to act normal with people. What do other people do in such situations? Daryl didn't know. All he knew was what little was passed down to him from his big brother and that was hardly anything to follow.

The Redneck was speechless by Lenora's rant, having hardly any idea what she was on about regarding the sacrifices made for him by people. He had been unaware that any such sacrifices had been made. Here he was ignorantly thinking that he had been the only one to make an effort with the group and not vice versa. He was going to let the pale woman go. Let her finish her rant and storm off in a huff like she usually did when they didn't see eye-to-eye, but this time was different. Just as she had bravely bumped into him to make her point as she brushed past him, she cried out in pain. It shocked Daryl. He had not expected such a sound to escape her very lips. The Hunter turned quickly, watching as she clutched at her abdomen and collapsed to one knee. He heard her cuss through gritted teeth as she tried to force back the pain that was coursing through her entire torso and side.

Without even thinking Daryl had moved to crouch at her side. His right hand hesitantly moved to rest at her left shoulder. Any other time in the past and Daryl probably wouldn't have even made an attempt towards her until he absolutely had no choice, such as the first time he ever found her in the woods bleeding out. But his instant worry over her pain was an indication all in itself at how attached he had become to the woman. "The 'ell is wrong with ya, Leprechaun?" He boomed, but concern was in his eyes as he leaned his head forward to get a glimpse of her face.

* * *

So many bumps and bruises coming back to haunt her that Nora hardly had the ability to realize Daryl had placed a strong hand upon her shoulder and crouched to her level. She had ignored her pain, tried her best to dress her own wounds and keep moving as though nothing was wrong... but they just seemed to be worsening by the day. Each movement was becoming tougher and her reality check was beginning to dawn; reminding her that maybe... just maybe... she couldn't fix this one by covering it up.

She hated thinking like that.

"Oh, y'know... bumps 'n' bruises, dat sort'a shit." She gritted out through clenched teeth as her scratched up fingers roved delicately over her torso. She pushed her hair off to one side absentmindedly, revealing the faded bruises of fingerprints on her neck just so she could get a better view of her torso. The pain had spread along her side and without thinking, she had lifted the heavy sweater in the midst of the Georgia heat and eyed the intense shades of blues, purples, reds and blacks that decorated the flesh of her ribs, back and stomach.

She attempted craning her head back to peek at the wounds that traveled all the way to her spine, grunting. "I t'ink I may 'ave broken somet'in', though..."

* * *

Daryl remained at her side, crouched in silence as he listened to her response. She seemed to ignore the fact that he was there beside her as she absentmindedly moved her hair to view her stomach better, which revealed her bruises upon her neck. His crystalline hues instantly recognizing the type of bruising, having worn identical ones in his childhood many times. His brows pulled together and his mouth opened to begin to question her, but he instantly stopped as his breath was taken from him. His eyes rested upon the nasty shades of red, purple, and blue that adorned her flesh across her ribcage. Everything around him came to a stand-still. His gaze penetrating the wounds as he took the time to absorb every last detail of them.

His hand moved from its place on her shoulder and grabbed at her hand that was wrapped around the hem of her shirt. He untangled her slender fingers and examined the cuts and scraps along her hands and wrists, taking notice of the damage her flesh had taken from digging out of her own grave. A fire ignited in his eyes as he pulled back the long sleeve of her shirt and exposed all of the other signs of abuse she had endured over the past month. His mouth closed, his teeth clenched tightly. His jaw flexed as his brows pulled together angrily. Somebody...Some bastard...was going to die. His giant hand closed over hers for a second as he lifted his head towards her, meeting her ocean orbs with his. "..." He was a whole level of furious she had never seen before and what made it even more frightening was his silence. Daryl stayed quiet for the longest time before he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "Who done this t' ya?"


	24. Chapter 24

Nora paused, looking down to her hands as the Beast had pulled them back to study them. The pain in her heart doubled as she sifted through the memories behind those scrapes. She trembled, recalling her fear... her turmoil and all the things she had endured with the bravest of faces just so she could come home... just so she could see her strength return once more. Only to be defeated all over again.

His silence made it all the worse for wear at that point. Daryl's own anger had burned so deeply into her veins that she didn't... she couldn't meet his eyes. Tears welled, clouding her vision and beginning to shamelessly trek along her cheeks as she felt her iron-clad defenses beginning to break; to fall away and dissolve before his eyes. She had grown so numb, so determined to make it home that once she had done so... she hadn't properly prepared herself to face what happened.

"I didn't... it was... so dark. So close and... dirty." She muttered, trying to find the way to properly explain it through her oncoming hysteria. "I made it out, t'anks to ye. I broke the planks, jus' like ye told me. Crawled through the dirt. Made it home." She whimpered, hating herself for being so pathetic in a time where she knew HE would be strong. But no matter how she tried to push it all back... the fact that someone cared... that someone was listening... it was enough to break her.

Her face contorted in sadness and terror, her shoulders beginning to shake from the tremors of fresh distress coursing through her. She almost wished he could continue his non-caring, cold and cruel charade... at least then she wouldn't feel as exposed as right now.

"'E put me in a grave." She scoffed sadly, trying to find the humor. It didn't work. She met his eyes. "I dug my way out."

* * *

Daryl's brows came closer together as he listened to her ramble on through her tears. They soaked her face as she shamefully shred them and tried her best to explain to him what she had gone through. Not one bit of it made sense to him. It was so hard for him to understand her through her sobs. But it didn't matter what she said. None of it did. The only thing that concerned the Redneck was her pain. It was almost the same feeling he had had for Carol when Sophia had first gone missing. Only this was unique to that. It had a more deeper meaning. It was unbearable seeing her so broken and fragile like this. Out of all of the people in their group he would have never guessed he would have seen such a side to Nora. It cut him more than any knife or sword could.

Then she spoke those few words he DID understand. She had crawled out of her own fucking grave. A look of shock fluttered upon his face as she finally lifted her head to meet his gaze. Jesus christ. What had this woman endured? Daryl pressed his lips together, his teeth clenched so tightly shut that he thought his jaw would snap. He stared hard into her puffy and red eyes for a good while before he silently and slowly reached over to her, sliding an arm around her back and forcing his other to go beneath her knees, where he pulled her up with him as he got to his feet. He held the petite Irish woman as he quietly began to make his way towards the prison doors.

Before he even made it into the door Andrea had opened it, having seen the last few seconds of what was going on before. "What's wrong with Nora?"

"Move outta my way!" Daryl snapped as he strolled past her.

"Lenora, what happened?" Andrea tried speaking with her instead.

"MAKE YA'SELF USEFUL N' GET SOME DAMN HELP, LADY!" Daryl roared furiously, instantly instilling fear in the blonde woman. It was a tone that he had not used in a very long time; a glimmer of the old Daryl. Without uttering so much as another word, Andrea scurried off to get the others.

Finally making it to the infirmary, Daryl placed Nora down, as delicately as possible, upon one of the beds. His crystalline hues barely stealing a glance from her before averting his eyes to begin sifting through the drawers for supplies. A few seconds later Maggie came rushing in with a handful of others behind her. "What happened?" She demanded.

Daryl pointed a finger at Lenora. "Take care'a'er!" He barked out the order, pacing slightly as he spoke. As if he was uncertain of what else to do with himself.

* * *

His stare was enough to even boil the blood in her veins. Her cheeks flushed a bright red in response to his clenched jaw (which almost hurt her own teeth just seeing it) and his shocked expression. Would he think less of her for being so weak in such a time? Would he choose to disassociate himself with the likes of her after such a horrifying confession? She half expected him to. But the worry, the way he closed a strong hand over her own and the way pools of sympathy began welling in his own gaze only caused Nora to be floored yet again. She trembled from (what she had convinced herself was) the pain.

And then he did something that further shocked the Irishwoman into submission. One arm bravely snaked beneath her spine, making her grunt and whimper like some wounded pup. The other hoisted her bruised knees and he stood as some angered warrior, ferrying her bridal-style back towards the entrance of the prison. Her confusion was minimal now. If anything, she took this as care and comfort; a momentary lapse in their thick, defensive walls where they actually saw one another as something other than some bittersweet enemy. She accepted her fate and his crude compassion, burying her face into the crook of his neck as she bit into her lip and tried her best to will the pain away.

Andrea's voice brought her from her reverie, but she didn't dare look at the young woman. Instead, she only hid her face further, trying not to let anyone else see such a vulnerable side of her. Once so strong, once so brave and now... now she was nothing but a puddle of pathetic sorrow and weakness. Nothing but... human.

She whimpered again in sheer agony as the Beast had ever so gently laid her down upon the hospital bed. His rummaging hardly phased her. But the moment Maggie had entered, she snapped to attention and sobered up fast, trying to squirm up from her spot. This only remained as further proof that she was in far too much pain to even sit properly. She fell fruitlessly back to the pillows beneath her head as Maggie rushed to her side, clutching her ribs and grunting.

"What's wrong, Nora?" Maggie asked in a panic, intent on not pissing Daryl off any further than required.

"Not'in', I'm fine, don't-" She pleaded all to no avail with tear-streaked cheeks, too weak to stop Maggie from knocking her hands away and lifting her shirt. "I... I t'ink I-"

"Some of your ribs need to be reset." She announced, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "About five... maybe six. Nora... how long have you had these wounds?"

"A while." She grit out as she attempted feebly readjusting herself. "I think me right shoulder's dislocated too." She added, trying not to wince as Maggie poked and prodded.

* * *

Daryl paced back and forth just behind Maggie as he watched intently. His eyes had not lost their fire as he stared at the nasty wounds. The longer he stared at the sight of those injuries the more pissed he became. The fury in him was about to overload. He folded his hands into tight fists as he listened to Maggie and Nora go back and forth with their questions and answers. When Maggie mentioned the ribs, Daryl quirked a brow. "Can ya even do that?" The question came out more rude than he intended, but he didn't care.

Maggie sighed heavily as she continued with her examination. "I'm not too sure 'bout that. We ain't got much provisions here for that kinda stuff..." She frowned deeply.

"FIND SOMETHIN'!" Daryl found himself barking out this order.

She quickly whipped around. "I can't really work miracles! I can only do so much!" She snapped, using a vicious tone with the Redneck. One that warned him not to lose his temper with her with something she had no control over.

Daryl instantly clamped his mouth shut, taken back by her outburst before he nibbled at his lip. His eyes moved to land upon the Irish woman as she lay in the bed.

"A dislocated shoulder is an easy fix." She said this and looked to Daryl, as if expecting him to be the man for the job.

He paused at first, giving the Greene a look that showed he was not happy with the thought of inflicting the pale woman with more pain. When she continued to stare hard at him, he regrettably moved over to Nora's side and waited for Maggie to help her sit upright. He placed his hands upon her shoulder and upper arm, his eyes moving to meet hers as he quietly grumbled out an apology, "Sorry, Leprechaun..." And without even waiting for a count down or anything, the Hunter quickly forced her shoulder back in place, slightly cringing as he did so, as if to sympathize with the pain she felt. He took a step back and lowered his head, as if he was a dog that had just been scolded.

* * *

He really was a Beast. He paced like a lion in a cage just behind Maggie and though Nora tried her best to keep her mind focused, she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to him now and then. His fury flustered her, made it tougher to compute simple questions Maggie had been asking. It threw her off her game and she hated it.

The moment she had mentioned a dislocated shoulder, Nora's eyes snapped onto the Beast's gaze like glue. She trembled as he stepped closer and placed his hands upon the aching shoulder, murmuring some form of apology... before he ultimately snapped the limb back into place. A sharp cry of pain stole breath from her lungs and her eyes welled with fresh tears. She bowed her head and flopped back onto the pillows, clutching her injured shoulder.

Maggie lifted Nora's shirt further. "Alright... we're gonna have ta... do this the old fashioned way, I guess."

"They need t'be put back int'place." Nora snapped through clenched teeth, her eyes tightly shut. Maggie nodded and pressed around one rib. "Jus' do it." She muttered bravely. Maggie made a face and nodded, pressing hard. The scream that pierced the air, along with a loud snap and crackle of bone and cartilage flooded the room as Nora took in the pain searing through her ribcage.

Without thinking, a fragile, cut up hand jolted outwards to grab something... anything for comfort... and wound up digging soft, slender fingers into the flesh of the Beast's wrist himself. She clung tightly in a vice grip, unwilling to let him be released as she endured the pain, preparing for the next round.

* * *

Daryl's mouth tugged into a slight grimace as he inflicted more pain upon her, even if it was to help her. He didn't like the idea of being the reason to cause agony for the petite Irish Woman. His eyes trailed onto Maggie as she broke the short silence that had fallen amongst them. He squinted for a moment as he took a second to process exactly what she had meant. His head immediately moved to look upon Nora, who was trying her hardest to be the tough woman she was. Though it didn't take much for anyone to know just how fragile she actually in her current condition. Daryl's jaw flexed as she bravely gave Maggie the order to crack her rips in place.

_CRACK_.

A shrill, hair-raising scream filled the room that sent shivers down even Daryl's spine. He turned his head away for a second, for reasons even he was unsure why, but the touch of Nora's delicate fingers gripping around his wrist caused him to quickly return his gaze onto her in surprise. This is an action he had least expected from her. A sign of comfort. She was seeking comfort and safety from him. Him? His crystalline hues moved to focus upon her eyes, seeing the tears welled in them as she fought desperately to hold them back. He was frozen. He dare not move from position as she clung to his wrist.

**_CRACK_**!

Another heart-stopping scream erupted from her and without even thinking, Daryl's free hand moved to rest ontop of hers. It was the only thing he could think of to do to show that he was, in fact, there for her and sympathized. A small and simple gesture to show just how close he had actually grown with this woman.

Once Maggie had finished her job and all the excitement had died down, she demanded that Nora got her rest. She dosed the pale Irish woman with some pain meds that would cause her to get drowsy and allow sleep to find her. Daryl had long ago regained the freedom of moving his arm at will and had made it his number one priority in keeping watch on Nora while she was told to rest. He quickly pulled up a chair from across the room and stationed himself to the side of her bed, where he sat down and watched her silently, a slight hint of genuine concern shimmering upon his features as his eyes scanned over her tired form resting in the bed. After a moment he averted his eyes from her to elsewhere, at anything but her.

* * *

Through the pain and flashing memories of her past, Nora had hardly noticed that her Beast had reciprocated - heeded her need for a source of strength and solace. He had closed his hand over her own, squeezing as though he intended to suck her pain directly from her burning veins and replace it with the strength she knew she held so dearly once upon a time.

All to no avail, it seemed. By the time Maggie had finished her work and fed her with various pain medication, Nora was a mess. Her hair clung to her face in damp ringlets and her makeup ran feebly down her cheeks from the countless tears she had shed for her own sorry pain and suffering. Her body trembled with every movement - even trying to brush away a few annoying droplets of sweat from her face was a task in itself. She eventually sank into her cot, beginning to feel her eyes droop low in exhaustion.

The creak of metal on concrete snapped her dizzy gaze to the source while Daryl had pulled up a chair next to her bed. A small gasp sucked into her lungs through parched lips, but she said nothing. Nora had never been trained for social interaction, though her father had certainly tried. The closest she had ever come to having some sort of clique was her mother and whatever socialites she had tried to get her into. Even that type of etiquette didn't apply to this. Feeling deeply that, even if she DID have something to say, she would be far too weak to do so, she merely kept eye contact for as long as she could.

The genuine stare of concern and care that flickered over his features caused her own to soften considerably. In the midst of (what she convinced herself was) her inner trauma and outward pain and exhaustion, a single tear slipped from her eye along her cheek.

But just as she went to blink it away, sleep had finally conquered and she slipped away from him, succumbing to her nightmares.


	25. Chapter 25

Nora had taken some time before she was able to fully recover. But now that she was back on her feet, the eyes that watched over her night and day only seemed to grow more skeptical. They wanted answers and Nora wasn't positive she was prepared to give them. She didn't like confessing how many times she had been caught off her guard and hauled back into that room of pure torture. She didn't want to tell how she felt her last fractions of air being replaced with dirt and grime as she clawed her way out of her own coffin.

First time for everything, right?

"Alright. Let's take this from the beginning," Rick said as he leaned in, ensuring he had Nora's full attention. Andrea, ever the supporter, clasped tightly onto Nora's hand to show her ultimate support. She received a fleeting squeeze before Nora was able to wiggle out of her sisterly grasp and focus on burying what was left of her emotional attachment to the subject. Her expression became stony, almost businesslike. "Where did they find ye?"

Nora sighed heavily and began from there. Now and again, Andrea would jump in and answer, breaking the Irishwoman's concentration. She kept focused, continuing onto their initiation into the Governor's town and how they had turned from guests to captives.

"'E found out we were wit' ya, I assume." Nora confessed. "Few of 'is blokes took turns wailing inta all of us. Me especially. Seemed I was t'e only one wit' a knack fer getting outta me cell. Wound up in solitary confinement. Hardly any food or water, burnin' sun... more bruises n' scrapes. And den... I was..." She paused, unsure of how she was to phrase such a horrific event. It seemed to flow in such perfect insanity from her mouth when she was telling it to Daryl before. She couldn't break like that. Not again. "'E buried me alive."

Rick seemed taken aback by how calmly she spoke about it. Nora gave him a look. How else was she supposed to say it?

"Buried you alive?" Lori gasped.

"I gotta spell it out for ya, Mother Goose? A hole six-feet-deep and a coffin wit' a breat'in' body inside. Buried alive. Me." She snapped, causing Lori to snap back almost defensively. Andrea placed a hand upon her shoulder to calm her Irish temper, which seemed to be flaring tenfold now. "I ain't a child, Blondie." She murmured venomously, knocking the girl's hand from her shoulder. "Eit'er way, I listened. Heard words exchanged about th'group. S'how I knew ye were alive."

Andrea sighed, accepting her defeated attempts to console her friend. But Nora mutely relished in her efforts when she proceeded to explain their escape.

Rick finally nodded and patted Andrea's shoulder. "Y'did good. All three of ya." He nodded courteously to Michonne, who returned it and stood, along with Andrea and Nora. "Get some rest, ladies. And thank ye. At least we know now that it ain't just walkers to be feared out here."

* * *

Daryl had sat in and listened to everything Lenora had to share about her experience over the time she had been gone. His eyes wandered back and forth between the Sheriff and the Irish woman as questions and answers were traded. At long last Rick felt he had heard everything he needed to know and excused himself from the three women. Daryl's gaze fell upon Nora briefly before he turned to follow Rick.

Andrea exchanged a few glances between Michonne and Nora before her emerald hues settled across the room to stare after the Redneck. After a moment she smiled gently. "I'm going to go to the bathroom." She lied as she quickly exited the room to catch up to the Hunter before he disappeared to his private cell block. "Daryl." She softly called out his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

The Redneck paused in his movement and turned to look over his shoulder at Andrea. He instantly saw the guilt in her eyes and couldn't help but squint his own at her. "What is it?" Daryl questioned quietly.

The blonde took in a deep breath of air as she seemed to struggle with how to bring up the topic she so greatly desired to discuss with him. She exhaled and swallowed hard. "There's something you need to know…" Andrea started slowly, to which Daryl quirked a brow at her. "…When we were there in Woodbury…The Governor had a couple of body guards with him. And one in particular seemed to be his right hand man…" She paused, as she suddenly grew timid.

"And?" Daryl said, seeming impatient with her. "Out with it."

Andrea swallowed once again, her bottom lip quivering slightly as she finally found courage to speak. "Merle.."

At first Daryl had thought he heard her wrong. His eyebrows pulled together and his expression twisted to something very distasteful as he asked, "What?"

"Your brother…Merle...He's alive, Daryl…"

Just when Daryl thought he had seen and heard it all, something else had to come and prove him wrong. His entire world swirled before his very eyes and everything he seemed to have been holding onto came crashing down. His breath was suddenly short and his heart was racing; pounding furiously in his chest. Merle… Merle was alive! His big brother had made it out of Atlanta after all! And all this time he had believed him to be dead. Daryl exhaled an uneven breath; his body wavered slightly, as if his weight was unsure of where to settle itself for a moment. A smile, unfitting to his emotion, twisted itself uncomfortably upon his face as he staggered away from Andrea, his head shaking vigorously as a soft chuckle came from him, as if in denial. His hand moved to reach towards his face, which had suddenly grown very hot. He wiped at the beams of sweat that coated his cheek and forehead and then pointed at Andrea. "You're lying. You're wrong..." He whispered hoarsely. His face suddenly contorted, his smile wiping clean off his face to pull downward into a deep scowl as his eyes started to rim with tears. He gritted his teeth and quickly turned away from Andrea, furious with the fact that he was allowing this woman to witness his vulnerability. Without even thinking, he balled his hand into a tight fist and swung as hard as he could at the wall to his left. The sound of a crack was heard and blood quickly began oozing between his curled fingers, running down the length of his arm and dripping onto the floor; but he felt no pain. Daryl's gaze was held firmly upon the wall, his eyes bearing a fury that had not been witnessed in a long time. Fear instantly washed over Andrea as she stood, watching as he took in quick, unsteady breaths.

"Daryl…" She whispered his name, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I was afraid to tell you…I knew you'd want to look for him…but he's really dangerous…I didn't want to risk the safety of everyone." She stupidly rambled off, due to being scared out of her mind.

He slowly turned his head, his blue orbs locking intensely with hers. "….." Daryl slowly moved from his spot at the wall, revealing a bloodied imprint on the wall where his knuckle had collided with it, his body moving to face the blonde. She coward away from him, terrified by the look in his eyes, unsure of what he might do. His nostrils flared as he closed the distance between them, towering over her. "Did he touch her..?" Daryl questioned darkly.

Andrea's mouth fell open, having been completely taken by surprise with his question. "I-…What?" A look of confusion instantly sweeping over her fear-stricken face.

"DID HE HURT HER?" Daryl shouted angrily, causing Andrea to jump in her skin.

"I—I don't know. I don't know! She never said anything to me, if he did." Andrea answered quickly.

He held her gaze, his mouth closing to clench his jaw before he silently turned from her and walked away, with nothing to else to say, leaving her speechless and wondering if she had done the right thing by telling him.

* * *

The pale Irishwoman rang her fingers together nervously, trying to avoid Michonne's penetrating gaze. She frowned further and placed a hand upon Nora's shoulder; the first touch the young Galway Archer actually decided to let slide as she made eye contact with the katana-wielding warrior. A simple nod from the fellow fighter indicated that she did the right thing in allowing herself to be exposed like this... but she didn't feel it quite yet. What would Rick do? Seek revenge? It didn't seem right, in such a world as this. People couldn't just go about exacting vengeance when there was basic survival to be worried about.

"She's been in th'bathroom a long time, don't ya t'ink?" Nora inquired in desperate attempt to remove the focus from her rollercoaster of emotions. Michonne gave her yet another shield-dropping gaze and she leaned in.

"I don't think she went to th'bathroom at all." She replied. "Bathroom's that way. She went the other."

Nora shook her head, not fully understanding where the ebony-skinned female was getting to. But the ever-familiar shouts of a very pissed off Daryl pulled her into a stinging reality quicker than anything she'd ever felt before. She couldn't make out the words, though. Nothing but muffled shouts and pounding fists. Though the fucker hadn't paid heed to her presence in the past few weeks, she still held an annoying soft spot for him. She didn't understand it herself. Perhaps because he was so much like her yet... so damn confusing?


	26. Chapter 26

Nora abandoned Michonne's presence on a mission to find this raging Beastie, allowing Andrea and her flushed cheeks of embarrassment to pass by her in attempts to convince her that nothing was wrong.

"Beast!" She called out as she finally caught up to him. "What th'fuck just 'appened back dere? 'Eard lots'a shoutin'."

* * *

Daryl had barely made it to his cell block when Nora's voice echoed down the empty hall. Typical nosey Lenora Brannigan. The brunette didn't even bothering to stop in his tracks, like usual, brushing off Nora's curiosity and appearing to be callous. "Ain't none'a ya business, Leprechaun! How many damn times I gotta tell ya?" He shot back at her, irritation present in his tone as he hurriedly collected his weapons and other various items he might need on his journey out of the prison.

* * *

"It is when ya start actin' like a right git to t'e ones I care about, yah fuckin' arse, now quit yer walkin'!" She shouted back defiantly, cutting in front of him. "What's it gonna be now, aye? C'mon. I almost die comin' back, ya don't give a shit. I get some pain, ya show a little sliver of kindness, den it's back ta bein' a dick. What'll it be, Beastie?" She tilted her chin up defiantly, beginning to mock him. "Back off, Leprechaun, ain't none'a yer business? Oh! How about, out or somewhere! Because I'm Daryl Dixon an' I don' give two shits about anyone's feelin's but my own because I'm a badass crossbow-wielding, heartless son of a bitch? Any o'those work for yah?"

The hurt showed. Even though he'd stayed with her through her healing, watched over her... he just turned his back again like she meant nothing. She didn't know why it was killing her so much. She didn't know why she kept caring, even when she had it in her mindset that he couldn't care less.

There was something in the way he spoke to her that day that kept her going. Something that called out to her. Something that... had faith in her strength.

She'd forgotten what that felt like and she wanted to hang onto whatever fraction was left of it.

"After all we've been t'rough... I'm ready for whatever you've got, Beastie. Give it yer best shot."

Maybe proving that she could take whatever he shot at her would help boost whatever self-esteem she had left.

* * *

Daryl froze at his position by the door of his cell, his eyes narrowing as they met with Nora's. It was probably the first time in a week he had actually looked directly at her face for more than a second. He flexed his jaw, his brows pulling together in frustration as he listened to her mock him. Pain was in her eyes. It had been present there ever since the Redneck had distanced himself from her the moment she came back from Woodbury.

"_WHADDYA WANT FROM ME_?" He finally blurted out, frustrated and fed up with it all. Daryl had gone too long holding everything inside, bottling everything up until it was flooding over. How did he even begin to try to explain to Lenora how he was feeling when he wasn't even sure of it himself? He shook his head, his bottom lip folding inward as he nibbled on it before turning his back to her, tearing his sights from her so that he didn't have to deal with her looking at him that way. "Dammit, Leprechaun!" He growled, his hand throwing his sheathed hunting knife across the room. Daryl shook his head, his eyes lowering to the ground as he listened to her tough act. Give her his best shot..?

There was a long drawn out silence between the two of them after she had spoken those words. A silence that was uncomfortable. One that made every second feel like a minute. "…I'ma failure.." Daryl finally stated quietly, unsure of if she had heard him at all. He pressed his lips together for a moment, his head rising slightly.

"Ain't one person in this world I ain't screwed up with." He paused briefly. "Merle…Sophia…Hershel...T-Dog…even some worthless sons of bitches I came across 'fore this group…" He turned his head to gaze at her. "Then you…" Daryl averted his eyes back to the floor.

"…I ain't ever known what it's like t' have someone depend on me…not even Merle…" Daryl pressed his lips together slightly, his crystalline hues lifting to meet Nora's. "But this group, you guys…closest thing I ever had t' a real family…"

A heavy sigh emptied from his lips as he bravely lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I kicked my own ass for the longest tryin'a convince myself that you were dead n' there wasn't a thing I could'a done." He paused again. "…And then ya came back n' it's like I…got this second chance, y'know?" He lowered his head again, his eyes focusing on his crossbow that had been gripped in his right hand. "Don't much like the idea'a failin' ya twice…"

* * *

She froze; her boiling blood beginning to be replaced with a whole new type of adrenaline that she couldn't quite comprehend. Here was the stone-cold statue of a Beastie - and he was crumbling right before her very eyes in the midst of her cruelty. She didn't feel any sort of accomplishment - no type of triumph. Instead, she felt... sorry. She felt upset with herself and her cold, heartless words.

He was vulnerable. Open wide with his cards on the table and here Nora was the one bluffing effortlessly. Finally, she saw what life was like through his eyes. But a fraction of lowered walls and all of him came pouring through the cracks of his withering foundation and now she was neck-deep in it.

She had opened her mouth several times to say something... anything that would make her guilty conscience a little lighter. But once he had finished his speech, she knew that her conscience would have to wait. For now, all she felt was the dire need to comfort him in any way possible. And with people like Nora and Daryl... actions always spoke louder than words.

Before she could stop herself, her feet closed the space between their bodies, leaving barely a fraction of breathing room. Nora reached for his free hand; the very one she had cleaned when they had shared their first moment outside of the barn Randal was kept in. She didn't know what the hell she was doing. Her heart hammered so loudly against the marrow bars of her ribcage that she was almost positive that it would burst through, flop into Daryl's hands and pray he keep the gentle nature he now portrayed.

At a turtle's pace, she lifted his hand, guiding it to cup her cheek and feel the warmth that arose to it so quickly; to feel the life that still flowed through her veins. To feel that she was there and that his second chance was far from ruined. Perhaps, even, a third might be in order.

Her eyes corseted shut a moment, savoring the feel of him while she could. The familiarity of whatever touch she could muster. Then her eyes opened, seeking his own in a tightly locked stare. Time stood still... to the point where she barely realized that she was steadily guiding herself up onto her tiptoes.

Her limbs shook in fear of being pushed away; of being humiliated by him once again. But in her heart, she knew that if she didn't trust her instincts, she would forever wonder.

She reached up to slowly weave her slender fingers around the base of his neck to guide him a bit more forward.

"Ah mhuirnin..." She murmured as she began to shut her eyes once more, her breath washing over his mouth before she leaned in that small amount and planted the most innocent and chaste of kisses upon his lips. And though the tender lock lasted no more than a few seconds, it felt like an eternity.

Her first kiss.

She pulled back, but pressed her forehead to his a moment.

"You ne'er once failed me, Daryl Dixon." Her voice was frightened. No more than a whisper in the midst of the most vulnerable state she'd ever been in.

And just like that... she pulled away. As though she was burned by his very touch. She lowered her head so he wouldn't see the fright in her gaze before she turned on her heel and began making her way back to the group.

* * *

He felt exposed; completely naked, after having spoken so openly about his feelings. Not once in his life had he ever had the courage or strength to really speak truthfully about his thoughts or feelings. And even though it wasn't much, it was still a big deal to him to have done so. His blue orbs locked with Nora's as she silently moved to close the distance between them. Her silence did not help his cause, but her eyes were even more frightening to the Redneck. He had witnessed it before in her eyes, some time ago. And when her soft, delicate hand moved to collect the very hand she had tended to once before, he remembered it had been that he had seen this look in her eyes. As she pulled at his hand, he allowed her to guide it to her face, where he felt her softness. His calloused hands tingled from the feeling of her warmth and he understood her reasoning of her action. She was alive. She was breathing. She had not died and she had no intentions of leaving him. He had watched as she closed her eyes, seeming to enjoy the feeling of his rough hand against her cheek. Almost as if it was a comfort to her in some way.

When her eyes opened again, she slipped a nervous hand around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Daryl's crystalline hues moved to look down at her face, unsure of what the hell he was feeling. It was new. And though he was frightened like hell, he did not push her away. Instead he allowed her to murmur to him in that soft tone, feeling her breath upon his lips as she did so, knowing full and well what she was about to do. He closed his eyes and when her lips met with his, he felt the tenderness of them. His lips moved against hers, showing Lenora that he had nothing to regret in her actions. When she pulled away, his eyes remained closed as he felt her forehead against his.

A quiet moment of peace resting upon them before she gently spoke those words of assurance. Those simple words that rejuvenated him and returned the strength to him that he felt he had long since lost. His eyes opened as he felt her begin to move away from him in a hurried manner, as if he had done something wrong.

A look of confusion twisted itself upon his features as he gazed at her and before she had even taken a full step from him, his hand shot out to snatch her by the wrist. "Don't." He spoke, quietly. His expression having grown completely soft; a look that she, nor anyone of their group had ever seen him wear before. Daryl was never the type to seek comfort from anyone, but for once in his life he didn't want to be left in solitude. There was too much going through his mind and he just wanted someone to be there…even if it was only for a little while.

* * *

The tension between the two strong souls seemed to be enough to destroy the prison itself. Nora almost felt suffocated by it. She could still feel his lips gently moving against her own. It was like still feeling the after-effects of being in the waves of the ocean for too long. She even swayed slightly when he caught her wrist.

But the moment she had braved herself enough to meet his eyes, she was caught under his influence once more. Her defenses dropped the moment he said that one word. The look on his face was like nothing she'd ever seen before. It nigh tied her organs in various knots and her stomach almost fell into her shoes. She could feel his touch burning her, shooting tingles up her arm with more sensations than she knew how to handle.

She had half a mind to kiss him again. Harder. With a passion that was sure to convince him that he was stronger than he thought.

Instead, she responded by weaving her captured hand into his own protectively, giving his larger fingers a timid squeeze to reassure his worries. He wouldn't be alone. Not as long as he didn't want to be. Slowly, her cerulean hues raised to meet his own and she kept them there.

And finally, she smiled.

For once, Nora Brannigan smiled. And it was brighter than the sun, kind and filled with an innocence she never let anyone see before.

"You will find new ways to smile, my child." Her father had once said.

He was right.


	27. Chapter 27

The time that had been spent with Nora the day before had been an intense one. Not in any negative way, but rather intense in the sense that Daryl had never experienced such an interaction with another person before. It had been the first time in Daryl's life that he had reached out to someone and willingly shown his vulnerability; to have sought the actual need of human comfort. He wasn't sure why it had come to that. Perhaps all these years of keeping to himself had finally caught up with him. After all, Rick wasn't the only person in the group that carried a giant bolder.

Daryl had given up on the idea, for now, of seeking Merle out. He understood why Andrea had struggled to tell him about it. If Daryl had been told of his brother's whereabouts a year prior, he would have definitely gone out in a heartbeat to search for him, with nothing to stop him…but now was different. He sighed softly to himself as he eyed each of the group members from his spot at one of the tables in the Cafeteria. They were all sitting and enjoying lunch together, sharing stories and laughter. This had become more than a group to Daryl. They had all been through so much. They were his family and despite whatever hardships he and Merle may have gone through together, nothing could ever replace the feeling he gained when he was with these people. Daryl was no idiot, he knew that things wouldn't and couldn't go the way he hoped if he and Merle were to come into contact with one another. Merle wasn't the type to let grudges go or to change who he was for the mercy of others. Nothing would end well. It couldn't.

"Hey Daryl." Carl called out to the Hunter as he approached him. This shook the Hunter out of his train of thought as he gazed upon the young Grimes. "Wanna go target practice? I could try n' shoot your crossbow!"

The Redneck glanced at the kid like he was crazy for a moment before he responded, "Ya ain't big enough t' handle this weapon, kid."

Carl frowned. "Sure I am! I can handle it!" He assured the Redneck.

Daryl silently collected his weapon off of the table and extended it to the boy, who eagerly reached for it. Carl nearly dropped it, having not expected it to weigh as much as it did. "It's so heavy! How'd'ya carry this thing all the time!?" Carl gave the Redneck a surprised expression, as if he expected him to turn into superman for accomplishing such a task.

A soft grin formed upon the Redneck's lips, slightly amused. "Ya get used t' it."

Rick clapped a hand down on Carl's shoulder. "Don't think you're quite suited to carry a weapon like that yet, son." He grinned. "Why don't ya go on ahead and give that back t' Daryl, I need to borrow him for abit."

Carl looked to his father curiously. "Where ya goin? I wanna go!"

"Not this time, son. But I promise ya, next time. Ok?"

Carl frowned but handed the crossbow back over to Daryl, who took it and strapped it over his shoulder before getting to his feet. "What're we up t'?" He questioned, just as curious as Carl had been.

"Just need t' discuss somethin' with ya." Rick responded as he began to make his way to the door, expecting the Hunter to follow.

Rick led Daryl to the outter perimeter of the Yard and began scoping around the outside surroundings. "What'd'ya think about the whole Woodbury incident?"

Daryl paused to think as he lowered his head to stare at the dirt. After a moment he returned his gaze upon the Sheriff again. "Thinkin' they might try n' find 'em. Take 'em down...Don't seem like the type'a folks t' just let 'em go free."

A frown formed upon the Sheriff's lips as he moved his hands upon his hips. He licked his bottom lip and averted his eyes. "That's what I was thinkin'..." His eyes moved along the fences and a soft sigh slipped past him. "This place is secure against walkers...but it ain't secure enough to keep other humans from invading. If someone wanted in bad enough, they could accomplish it easy...And I don't want that for any of us. Based on what Nora told us, I don't think they'll see to reason, or bargaining...these people like control; power."

Daryl nodded his head in agreement. "They wouldn't like the idea'a lettin' us be our own." He shook his head. "Just the kinda place for Merle..." The Redneck mumbled to himself, outloud.

This caused a questioning brow to raise on the Sheriff's face. "Merle..?"

Having realized what he had done, Daryl's expression went stony as he nodded his head. Rick waited patiently for the Hunter to respond. "...Andrea told me she saw Merle there." Just saying it seemed to cause pain to the Redneck that was hard to explain. He nibbled at the inside of his bottom lip and then turned to meet Rick's gaze. "Said he was'a right-hand man t' the Govenor man..." He scoffed lightly, "Ain't no surprise there...Merle endin' up with the wrong folks ain't nothin' new."

Rick seemed flabbergasted by this news, his eyes slightly wide in shock and his mouth ajar. "Merle? He's alive?!" He raised a hand to wipe at his mouth and shook his head before returning his hand to his hip. "I'm sorry, Daryl..." He spoke quietly, guilt creeping its way in his eyes again.

The Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't worried 'bout it, so neither should you." He glanced across the open field towards some distant walkers. "Merle lasted this long on'is own...Ain't no sense in worryin' 'bout him. We got more important things here..." This was Daryl's way of expressing his attachment to the group. There was a small silence that fell between the two before the sounds of faint laughter filled the air. The two turned their attention behind them where they could see Carl playing around with Michonne and Lenora. Soft grins parted both of their lips as they watched. Lori, Beth, Maggie, Glenn, and Jose were also seen in the Yard watching.


	28. Chapter 28

"If it's all th'same to ye, I'd like ta train wit' Carl." Nora had expressed her worry of Carl's sole attachment to firearms some time ago. It was only now that she had approached Rick and Lori to fully explain her intentions. She had been healed well enough and training with Michonne had become much easier. She wanted the ability to help the only way she knew how.

"You think he's ready?" Rick asked. Lori remained silent.

"I know he is. An' he expresses enough interest in it during my storytelling. I t'ink he could be a great swordsman. If ye let Michonne and I take 'im on, I can guarantee he'll be able t'old his own wit'out fail. We've bot' been taught well enough." Michonne nodded in agreement, offering a small smile at the idea of being included in the group finally. It was the girls' way of offering their only aid. "An' I can teach 'im far more dan mere marksmanship. I'm well-schooled in various arts." Nora added.

Rick had taken the day a few weeks ago to discuss the possibilities over with Lori. Once they had made the choice, Nora had made them promise not to inform Carl. She and Michonne had begun by including him in storytelling, animating their tales with wooden swords and exuberant fighting stances that Carl had picked up well enough. He was learning the basics quickly, much to Nora's happy surprise.

As such, the moment Carl had rushed up to Nora and Michonne after abandoning Daryl and his crossbow, it was only a matter of time before the young women included him in their intense sparring match.

She couldn't seem to get the memory of Daryl's calloused hand as it cupped her own while they wandered in silence along those darkened corridors of the prison. She recalled every breath with such great intensity. But more or less, she remembered how fearlessly they met one another's eyes; as though there was nothing to be held back anymore. Their cards were laid out onto the table and though both were extremely vulnerable, Nora felt more protected than ever before. It was as though their exposure had been meant for each other and that alone... nobody else would be able to penetrate such a charismatic brick wall, except for them.

It was beautiful.

Petrifying.

And it distracted Nora to the point where Michonne was actually winning.

"Get up!" Michonne hissed in anger, growing frustrated with Nora's clumsiness. The Galway Archer grunted as she struck the ground.

Wooden swords or no, they damn well hurt when they made contact with the spine.

"Fuck, Michonne, we're in bloody practice mode!" She shouted back, dodging an artful swing and barreling in the opposite direction. She shot up her oak blade and stalled Michonne's kill-target, shoving the ebony-skinned girl back a few steps before stumbling to her feet.

"You're distracted." She muttered, flicking the dust off her harmless blade out of habit as she moved to help Nora up. "It's only a matter of time before the Governor shows up and you're playing little schoolgirl fantasies in your head."

"Fuck off." Nora spat venomously.

"Nora! Nora!" Carl shouted out as he approached the girls with a breathless stance, flushed cheeks and a gleaming smile. "Tell me a story!"

"Lad, it ain't storytime." Nora gave him a quizzical look. Michonne moved to grab the spare wooden sword they had made for the boy, preparing for someone who might actually pay attention. "Not yet, anyway. How about t'night, yeah?"

"C'mon, Nora. Please?" He mustered his best puppy face. Nora huffed.

"Shite. Can't say no t'that, can I?" She watched as Michonne handed him the sword and cleared her throat. "Alright. Are you Prince Charmin' or are ye Captain Hook t'day?"

"Hook!" He replied, taking up the sword and laughing as Michonne ruffled his hair.

Nora gave Michonne a look. "Dat makes ye th'prince."

Michonne glared.

"Alright. Where did we leave off last night, lad?"

"Girlie!" Carl said in his best British accent, assuming his fighting position. "We've come fer ye glass slippers!"

Nora faked fear and jolted backwards, assuming her own false courage. "Who be you to order me about an' call ME girlie?! HA!" She lunged. Carl dodged and resumed his attack posture, swinging at her face. Nora dipped backwards into a bridge and backflipped away.

None of the trio could even stop to pay attention to the laughter surrounding them as their fight continued.

"And then!" Nora announced as Carl was 'struck' down by 'Prince Charming', "Cinderella and 'er prince, ever the happiest in being reunited in the midst of such utter turmoil... united in the world's most powerful force on the face of this planet."

Her eyes flashed to Michonne, who could only grin as they stooped low beside Carl, knowing exactly what to do.

"What was it?"

"A kiss." Nora said matter-of-factly before both females planted hard pecks onto the boy's blushing cheeks.

"EWWWWW!" He shouted, trying to shove them away as they began tickling him beyond words.

* * *

It was a rare moment where happiness seemed to grace everyone. The group laughter lightly filled the air as the two warrior women played with the young Grimes and planted two kisses upon his cheeks. And just like that the moment ended as the horror and realization of a small horde of walkers came tumbling into the open Yard.

"Carl!" Lori called out, rushing towards her boy.

"LORI!" Rick screamed from across the outter fence. In a heart beat the Sheriff and Redneck took off running to begin heading back in the direction that would take them to the yard.

It was chaotic. Everything happened in a flash and before anyone could really step back and look at the situation, everyone was gone with the exception of Beth and Jose, who had shut themselves behind a fenced door.

"Where did the others go?" Rick demanded after he had taken care of the handful of walkers that were trying to claw their way through the fenced door.

"Your wife n' kid went that way, ese." Jose responded, gesturing across the yard.

The Sheriff and Daryl began to head in that directino when the sirens began going off in the yard, thus alerting all of the hordes around and in the prison. "What the hell?!" Glenn shouted, covering his ears.

"Why the hell are those going off?" Rick shouted and he lifted his pistol and shot at one of the speakers.

"I don't know, homes. They shouldn't be going off at all!"

"Well how the hell do we turn them off?!" Rick inquired.

"The generator room. I know where." Jose stated, offering his help as he exited the fenced door.

Rick and Daryl followed swiftly behind the Mexican as they started their journey to silence the sirens.

* * *

Rick had lost it. There had been a wall in his mind that he had built long ago to keep from breaking. It was what he had done to be capable of doing the things that were necessary for him to lead. To be strong enough to hold the bolder that carried everyone's burdens, including his own. But between all the bullshit that the entire group and Rick had been through, it was enough for anyone to see that cracks had begun to form. Each day had grown increasingly hard for the Sheriff to get up; to put on his brave face and lead the group into believing he was stronger than the rest. That he could muster anything anyone threw his way and that he would not waver or hesitate. His best interest was and always had been the group's safety. Their survival.

A heavy sadness weighed upon the group as the sudden realization of Lori's death hit them all. The sound of Rick's remorseful sobs filling the air was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. It was heart wrenching. A great sadness that no words could even hope to describe. The pain that Rick felt was nothing anyone could imagine. His wall had crumbled. Every ounce of strength that this man had had been ripped right out from underneath him. Everyone was speechless.

Several long moments had passed before Rick's and the other's sobs grew softer. Daryl squinted his eyes, a sorrowful expression playing upon his rugged features as he stared after the Sheriff. It was evident that this man was in no condition to lead and that meant that the reins were left completely in the Hunter's hands. Without a moment's hesitation, Daryl took a few steps towards Maggie, who now had the new born daughter held uncomfortably in her grasp. "Y'need t' get inside and have'a look at'er. Make sure she's healthy n' everythin'." Daryl spoke quietly. Maggie's mouth opened slightly and then closed as she nodded her head. He glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Best for y'all t' head back inside n' look after the baby. I'll take care'a the perimeters n' make sure no more of those geeks get in." He stated loud for the entire group to hear.

"She needs formula." Maggie cut in, drawing all of their attention upon her. "She'll die if she doesn't have any soon." She sniffled lightly.

Daryl shook his head in denial. "Nuh-uh. Not today. We already lost enough." He strapped his crossbow over his shoulder. "Glenn, you n' Jose go on n' check the perimeters n' make sure it's all safe. Nora, you look after Beth n' Maggie. Michonne, I'd like ya to come with me for back up. We're gonna make a run into town. Alright, y'all know what to do! Let's get this shit done!" They all nodded their heads in agreement to the Redneck before moving to do as they were told. Daryl stood where he was as he watched the others disappear to go take care of one another before he turned around to see Carl was the only one who hadn't moved.

The Sheriff was still seen off to the side on the ground, hugging himself, incapable of finding the will power to bring himself to his feet. The young boy still appeared been numbed by the whole experience to Daryl; his face an emotionless mask covered in cold tears. The Redneck's brows pulled together as he slowly approached the boy, his hands shifting to hold his crossbow more firmly. "I need ya t' look after your father. Think ya can do that?" Daryl inquired, uncertain of if this was the correct approach. All he knew was that Rick wasn't getting up any time soon and it was unsafe to leave him there by himself without someone to look after him. The boy finally met the Redneck's gaze and gave him a stern nod. The Hunter clamped his hand down upon Carl's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before he moved away from him, with Michonne closeby. The two climbed upon his motorcycle and exited the prison. (lazy post ender.)

* * *

Of course, she understood Daryl's incentive in leaving her behind to play the babysitter. It wasn't as though Michonne could be fully trusted with the group yet and she was sure he would much rather have a character with a hidden agenda constantly under his watch as opposed to leaving her with his group.

She understood. It didn't mean she agreed with it.

Lenora Molly Brannigan was hardly the motherly type. She hadn't been exposed to kids all that often. She'd never babysat, never had a little brother or sister and never had any close relatives who actually wanted to bring their kids over. Nora was good with Carl because she'd watched others with him and learned how to handle him. Of course, there were stories she could tell him, but she couldn't do that with a newborn. A newborn wouldn't know the first thing about wielding a sword. A newborn wouldn't do anything except cry, sleep, puke and poop everywhere; they had to be handled with a gentleness that Nora barely understood and they could give their position away to walkers at any given time.

They were a weakness; a severe disadvantage in times like these. But as everyone gathered around the newborn, seeing hope, Nora wanted to believe that this child could be some sort of holy sanctuary of innocence.

She couldn't. Not just yet. Her worries of having a starving baby with strong lungs were stronger than her happiness that it survived in general.

"She's so pretty." Maggie's younger sister cooed as she smiled at the wee thing. Nora studied it from afar, her gaze completely blank. The young blonde noticed. "You wanna hold her?" She approached Nora, almost forcing the child into the Irishwoman's arms.

Nora backed away, holding her hands from her body. "No!" She exclaimed, avoiding it as though the infant's vulnerability was contagious. The blonde stopped, giving her a disheartened look. "Keep 'er away, lass. Might be great wit' combat an' battle tactics, but I don't do kids."

"Aw, c'mon, Nora. You're so great with Carl. Can't y'just give her a chance?" She moved forward again. Nora stumbled back, almost tripping over her own feet.

"No, wee Niblet." She said, her tone more stern and cold. The girl stopped in her tracks.

"Nora, what the hell is wrong with you?" Maggie snapped, looking to her friend through her tear-soaked eyes. "It's just a baby."

"Shuddup, Farmie, I know what da hell it is! All y'folks can 'ave yer little Koombaya session wit' da wee bairn, but make sure I take no part in it. Doona come cryin' ta me when she attracts all th'deads in t'area wit' dem lungs." Nora snapped finally before she shoved past the crew and made a quick decision to hunt for more possible provisions.

Maybe finding Rick and Carl would help her clear her conscience.


	29. Chapter 29

After having searched several of the shops and other various stores around the small town outside of the prison, Daryl and Michonne finally found themselves outside of one that actually looked promising. The Redneck parked his motorcycle just outside of the convenient shop and shrugged his crossbow off of his shoulders so that he could hold it in his hands. Michonne unsheathed her katana as she approached the building. They checked their surroundings before entering into the store and splitting up to search for baby formula and other supplies the group might need.

Daryl sighed to himself as he began to look over some of the cheap stuff in the isle he had entered. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his lips as his hand reached up to retrieve something. He held the item up to observe it a little better before storing it away in his pocket. The Redneck then proceeded down the isle and into the next where he discovered baby bottles and other varius baby things. He opened up a bag that had been over his left shoulder and began filling it with supplies. "Ya find anythin?" He called out, loud enough for Michonne to hear from where she was.

"Some canned food." Michonne responded from afar. The sounds of shuffling could be heard followed by the sound of a zipper as she closed her own bag.

"I found the formula." He added as he finished stuffing his bag. "I think we're good t' head back t' the others for now." Michonne nodded her head in agreement at this suggestion. She waited until Daryl had finished bagging all of his supplies before beginning to move towards the front of the store. That's when a sound caught their attention. It was the sound of a vehicle. Daryl quickly took up his crossbow and Michonne's hand found its way to the hilt of the sword that was upon her back.

The sound of voices could be heard, but nothing distinct could be made out. The sound of slamming car doors echoed along the empty street. Footsteps could be heard faintly approaching the door as the voices grew louder and more clear. "Don't suppose those little cunts headed this way do ya?" One voice said.

"Now ya know we ain't here for that. The Gov has the other group on the search for them women. Let's just gather up the rest of the supplies we need for tonight." Another said. They were right at the door of the store. At the mention of the Governor a look of vengence crossed over the ebony woman's face. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword and her eyes narrowed as the hatred presented itself. This is when Daryl shook his head sternly and then motioned for her to fall back. Michonne hesitated a moment, but the second the first figure began to walk in she quickly slipped into the shadows. The two hunters swiftly moved to disappear into the darkness of some of the isles away from the door. They were split off to opposite sides of the store. The strangers entered into the store and one was carrying a flashlight because Daryl could see its light flash across the wall adjacent to him above the shelves. The sound of their boots on the tiled floor broke the silence whenever they weren't speaking to one another, though they were all quite talkative. There had to be at least four of them.

"I still think its shit that he has us out on this supply run. We could be helping find those damn women." Another grumbled, with malice in his voice. "I wouldn't mind returning some of the things they did to our men."

"Rico, would you shut the fuck up already?"

Michonne ducked as one of them passed by the isle opposite to her. She could see him through he little cracks of the shelf, but he couldn't see her because she blended in. (-Racist) The ebony woman quietly began moving in the opposite direction in case they turned down her row, then she'd be gone.

"Man, looks like most of this place has been swept clean. Not much hardware left here." One groaned. The sound of clinking tools could be heard as they were thrown into a bag.

"Oh look, there's some gum!" Another stated rather ecstatically.

"Give me that!" The other snatched it out of his hands.

"Fucking morons.." One mumbled close by Daryl.

As Michonne was backing up to one end she had not taken notice of a walker that was creeping up on her. It was only when it was within grabbing distance that the hairs on her neck began to stand, alarming her that she was being looked at. She paused in her movement and slowly turned to look to her right where two glazed eyes were staring back at her. It's nose was eaten off and the skin on its cheek was completely ripped, exposing it's gums and teeth. It snarled loudly, alerting the men in the store. It lunged for the ebony woman and she let out a grunt as she blocked its grabbing hands and shoved it back off of her. It collided into a shelf knocking it over and causing a loud ruckus.

"HEY! There's somebody in here!" One shouted. They all scurried over to the direction Michonne was in. Daryl cussed under his breath as he moved to get to the side Michonne was on. She quickly drew her katana and disposed of the walker, but it was too late four kinds of guns were aimed and pointed in her direction. "WELL WOULD YOU LOOKY HERE!" The one that had been Rico shouted with glee. "WOOOO! MAN!" He grinned wider than the cheshire cat. Michonne stood with her katana gripped firmly in both of her hands as she glowered amongst them all. She looked ready to fight despite the fact that the odds were against her.

"Looks to me like we just found the needle in the hay stack." One commented with a scoff. "One little supply run and we just found the golden treasure. Your head on a stick for our Governor." Michonne said nothing in response, she only continued to glare daggers at them.

Rico began to approach her with his magnum aimed towards her head. "Put that weapon of yours down, little lady." When she made no effort to obey he added, "Would you prefer we do this the hard way then?"

"How 'bout my way?" Daryl responded from behind, causing all of them to turn their heads and look. Taking advantage of this moment where they were caught off guard, Michonne quickly ran her katana through Rico. One of the three was quick to turn their attention back upon the black woman and began firing rounds at her. She quickly removed her katana from Rico and disappeared around the corner, barely dodging the bullets. Daryl had fired his crossbow at one of the men on his left but he had also taken a shot in the bicep of his arm, which caused him to drop his cross bow. He quickly disappeared around the corner and glanced down at the blood that began seeping out of his bullet wound. The two unharmed men of the group scurried in different directions to find Michonne and Daryl. The Hunter quickly shrugged off his bag of supplies and threw in the face of the man as he rounded the corner. It threw the man off his feet just long enough for Daryl to reach down with his left hand and retrieve his hunting knife. The man reacted quickly as he kicked Daryl's feet out from under him. The Redneck toppled to the ground and landed on his side, dropping his knife in the process. The man swiftly rolled over and crawled over to the Redneck to grab him in a hold. Daryl punched him across the face as hard as he could with his left hand. Again the man recovered and returned a blow to Daryl's face. The two men grabbed onto one another and began rolling around, trying to get one another in choke holds of the sorts. Growing quite agitated with his struggle with this beast, the man finally jabbed his thumb into the gun wound on Daryl's arm and caused him to release his hold on him. Daryl gritted his teeth and then headed butted the man, knocking him off. The man grabbed onto his face and groaned as he rolled on the floor. Daryl panted as he tried to ignore the sharp pain throbbing throughout the whole length of his arm. He rolled over on his hands and knees and began looking for his knife, but it was gone.

"Looking for this?" A fifth man that had not entered the building with this group said, smirking down at the Redneck. Daryl only had time to look upon him for a second before the heel of this man's boot clashed into the side of his head knocking the Hunter over and causing his head to hit the sharp corner of the shelf beside him. His head bounced as it landed upon the hard tiled floor and all of his lights went out.

"Michael get the fuck off your ass and tie this one up. We're taking him with us." The fifth barked out. "AARON! Get Rico to the truck! We need to hurry back and report to the Governor!"

"But what about the nigger?" The man that had been shot with an arrow inquired.

The fifth glared. "We forget about her. She's long gone by now. We move out."


	30. Chapter 30

In the meantime, Nora was on her own journey. She had been searching for Sheriff Woody for what felt like hours. With such a large facility, it was easy to get lost.

Unfortunately for Lenora Molly Brannigan, she had not yet thought to acquaint her eidetic memory with every nook and cranny of this place just yet. Life (as miniscule as it seemed) continued to get in the way.

"You're distracted," Michonne had said before she took her leave with Daryl, "it's only a matter of time before the Governor shows up and you're playing little schoolgirl fantasies in your head."

The ebony-skinned woman's cryptic wake-up call stuck in her head to the point where Nora could hardly keep concentration on the task at hand. It seemed that whatever small collections of undead assholes she ran into were slain without her even realizing. But lucky for her, her senses were sharp enough for her to go on auto-pilot for a short time while she sorted out her thoughts.

"Bloody stupid blighter." She muttered under her breath after casting down another foe. "T'inks I'm some kinda lovesick bint. Please." She scoffed, shaking her head as she rounded another lost corner. Left, right, left, left, right, left... when in doubt, know your way out, right? "At least I'm smart enough ta pay attention where I'm bloody well walkin'-OOMF!"

Much to Nora's despair, she had rammed right into the decaying back of yet another undead bastard. She thought fast, swinging her sword and lopping off the head with the grace of... well, something graceful.

Only to find several more just behind him.

After the shock faded, a sadistic grin formed upon her face.

"Finally, some real action." She murmured happily before she lunged into action. Her sword took the weight happily and one of her sais came out to play; jealous of her katana getting all the action.

A loud, masculine cry caught her attention as she had noticed Rick coming in to join the action. By the time they had cleared all the undead out of the area, Nora had found herself finally taking notice to his broken nature.

"Oy... Rick." She had reached out at first; intent on showing his broken heart some comfort.

All to no avail, it seemed. By the time her fingers brushed his shoulder, she was thrust up against the wall with an elbow crushing her throat. Nora thought quickly, knocking her knee into Rick's gut and turning the arm from her throat around his back with surprising strength.

Once she had wrestled him to the ground, she decided that perhaps... a heart-to-heart was in order.

"Let me go!" Rick shouted, trying his best to struggle against Nora's firm grip. She applied strength to the pressure points, forcing him to cry out in pain. "Leave me be!"

"T'do what, lad? Get yerself killed when yer baby girl is waitin' fer ya t'get back?!" He went silent. "Let me tell ya'a little secret, Sheriff Woody: not only does this group need you... your newborn baby needs you. I might not be much for th'motivational pep talks, but dis is somet'in' ya need ta hear."

"Nora! Nora... let me go!" Rick gasped out, trying to struggle further. Nora only applied more pressure, making him cry out.

"I'd be a bit more polite to an Irishwoman who's got yer arm 'bout ready ta snap off, so shut it!" She shouted back. "Now, lookit 'ere. I got no time fer games, so dis is 'ow it's gonna go. I'm gonna release ya, but only if ya promise not to attack me. PTSD might be a bitch, but doona' let it overpower yer judgement, lad." She heard Rick inhale sharply from the pain. "Ya ready?"

"Just lemme go, dammit! She's gone! Y'hear?! GONE!" He pushed and prodded more, trying his best to get out of her vice grip.

No dice. Nora held him captive, even as he crashed her tailbone into a wall after shoving her backwards with all his strength. Nora only catapulted her knee into the back of his to get him to crumble to the ground. She released his paining arm and wrapped her own around him in a very firm hug, signifying that he wasn't going anywhere unless he wanted to carry her with him.

"I 'ear ya fine, lad, it's you who's not hearin' ME." He stopped his struggles slowly as Nora held him close in a daughter-like hug. "Pa... yer baby girl is waitin' fer ya. D'ye not ken how important dat is? How Lori wouldn't want ya t'forget dat? Now come. Please." She begged, sniffling back her own emotions on Lori's behalf. She heard sobs wrack Rick's body and she held him in her comforting embrace as she sat there crying with him for what felt like decades.

Soon, the both of them had recovered and were on their way outside when they were confronted by Michonne.

"Daryl's been taken, Irish." The dark woman had said. Nora could only stare in awe at the beloved crossbow and other artifacts belonging to Daryl that he would be helpless without. "Gov's got him." She announced after a long, bated silence. Michonne seemed to be gripping Dixon's items like she was ready to crush them.

Nora only felt... fire. She saw red; rage and vengeance. She saw the desire for justice and... blood.

She wanted blood.

The Gov had drawn the last straw and now it was her turn. He went after somebody she cared about; somebody who was just like her. Somebody who had... understood her and made her feel more whole than she'd ever felt.

Someone she'd given her first kiss to.

"I'm going after him, Rick! Doona wanna 'ear 'nother word about it!" Nora snapped viciously at the Sheriff as she headed for one of the regular cars, her weapons at the ready.

"Nora, y'can't just go in there without backup! We need a plan!"

"No!" She turned to him, wagging her forefinger in his face. "I've made plans before. I've spend days and weeks making plans that never worked wit' dis man! He buried be alive, y't'ink Daryl won't share th'same fate, if not worse?!"

"Nora-"

"Fuck off, Pa. See ya in a few hours. If I'm not back by nightfall... well... just wait longer." She snapped as she sped off into the distance.


	31. Chapter 31

The sound of groans could be heard faintly. Daryl's eyes moved behind closed eyelids as his senses slowly came back to him. The Redneck Saint was laid out on his stomach, his head turned to the side. He could feel an annoying pain in his skull, a migraine that had been brought upon him from his head wounds hours ago. Another soft groan came from his lips as his eyes opened to tiny slits, allowing the light to filter through and blur his vision. His eyes adjusted and he stirred. He winced as a paint shot up the length of his arm to remind him that he had a bullet wound there. He lifted his head off the floor to see that his arm and shirt had been drenched in his blood. He went to lift his hand toward his head, but couldn't move it. Daryl's brows pulled together as he came to realize that his wrists were cuffed behind his back.

Another groan filled the air only this time it did not come from Daryl. This caused the Redneck to turn his head to meet the dead, glossy eyes of a walker. It's hands were outstretched in excitement as it tried to grab ahold of him. Without missing a beat, Daryl swiftly rolled away and worked himself up onto his knees. The Walker reacted with more excitement as it tried more desperately to reach for him. The Redneck stared at it for half a moment (noting that it was chained to the wall) before his eyes began to take in his surroundings. There was a small round table in the very center of the room with two chairs near it. A metal door was stationed at the opposite end of the room with a tiny square cut out of it for a window. The brunette stepped up to it and began to peer out of the tiny window and saw nothing but a deserted hallway. He silently withdrew from the door and turned his attention back upon the walker, his eyes squinting as he stared thoughtfully at it.

* * *

"Sir, the hostage has awoken." Lopez informed the Governor as he entered into his office.

The Governor paused from writing in his journal, his eyes trailing to peer at the mexican from the tops of his reading glasses. "That so?" He returned his attention to what he was writing, seeming very casual about it. "I hope ya gave him a proper welcoming."

A soft grin formed on Lopez's features. "We didn't wanna take away your honor."

The Gov finished writing his sentence and then firmly closed the book. "Course not." He got to his feet and removed his glasses, placing them upon his desk. "Any word of Merle and his team being back yet?" He asked curiously as he moved across the room towards the door, expecting to be followed.

"No, Sir. But as soon as we hear from them, I'll be sure to let you know."

"No need." The Governor paused with his hand on the knob. "Just send Merle my way. I have a few things we need to discuss." He opened the door and then exited his apartment, followed swiftly by Lopez.

* * *

When the door opened two of the Governor's strongest men stepped in fully armed. They glanced around the room and were surprised to see the walker they had chained in the room with Daryl was dead. It's head had been smashed in and all of its brain matter and blood had pooled around the broken fragments of its skull. They barely had time to register this fact before Daryl had charged toward them at the side. The Redneck threw his handcuffed wrists over the neck of the guy closest to him and jerked him towards him. The man choked as Daryl tightened his grip, causing the small chain to dig into his throat.

The second man quickly turned and aimed his gun at the Redneck. "Let him go!" He demanded, his finger resting upon the trigger.

Daryl's eyes squinted as he glared at the man. "Put ya weapon down first." He shot back.

He paid no attention to the Redneck's request and pulled his trigger instead. The bullet exited the chamber and pierced through the skull of his comrade.

Blood and brain matter splattered across Daryl's face and the body in his grasp went limp. His leverage died in his arms. He appeared to be unphased by this man's course of action though, as he allowed the corpse to fall to the ground with a thud. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed into a deep scowl. Now the gun was aimed at him and him alone. If the man didn't hesitate to shoot his own ally, Daryl knew he stood no better a chance.

"Wise decision." A voice spoke from behind him and Daryl turned swiftly to see who it was.

Three men stood before him and the one in the middle was better dressed than any of them. Daryl had never once seen this fancy fellow, but he knew that it was the Governor. He could tell by the way he carried himself. The way he stood with that confidence and cockiness with that smug smirk twisted upon his lips. It was enough to cause that tiny flame of rage to burst into a blazing fire. All of the shit he had done to and put Nora through returned to his mind and he wanted nothing more than to murder this man right where he stood. Overcome by his fury, Daryl instantly charged at the Governor shouting, "You sonnuva bitch!" He didn't get very far before the two men at his side stopped him. They grabbed him by his arms and after much struggling they punched him good a few times.

Amused somewhat by this, the Governor rested his hand upon his belt and smiled. "Well, I can tell already you're not one for conversation. So I'll go ahead and tell you this so there's no misunderstandings later." His smiled broadened. "You and I are gonna have a nice little chat. I'll ask my men to leave and it can be just the two of us." He paused briefly. "But you lie to me or you try anything, like you did with my guard," He gestured towards the dead man on the ground, "I will not hesitate to deal with you."

Daryl glared at him as he boldly stated, "I ain't afraid to die."

The Governor cackled at this, causing Daryl's scowl to grow immensely. "Oh, sorry. I should clarify. I wouldn't kill you," He chortled a bit more. "I would make you suffer in ways you can't even imagine." His face smoothed abit, though the presence of a smile still twinkled in his eyes as he leaned closer toward the restrained Redneck. "I could torture you in ways that'd make you beg to be ripped apart and eaten by Biters. You'll wish that you were dead." A cruel smirk curled upon his lips.

Daryl said nothing in response to the man. He had no reason to speak to him. Not now and definitely not when he wanted this little "chat" of theirs to take place. The thought of torture didn't scare or intimidate Daryl. Instead it just added fuel to the fire. It would be just what he needed to feed off of to prepare himself for when the window to kill this guy opened.


	32. Chapter 32

Speaking of fires: the one blazing in Nora's veins was almost enough to blind her as she journeyed back to Woodbury. The Governor was waiting patiently, sitting pretty as he prepared whatever theme park of red delights on her Beast's behalf. At worst, her beloved Beast was sharing the exact same fate Nora had the night she escaped. She knew the bloody Gov well enough to know he wouldn't take captives and kill them directly... she also knew how useful Daryl was. Ripe with information, but no shred of cowardice big enough to sell out everyone he held dear.

But that was just it: Gov was tampering with something very important that wasn't his. It was hers.

Daryl Dixon was hers, if he was anybody's to begin with. Just as she was completely content with the idea of being his. They held a part of one another unwitnessed by anyone else. They bonded through their broken hearts and kindred spirits. They were yin and yang; there was no one without the other. Whether or not such a bond was ever to be rectified was beyond Nora. But whether or not it would be, it didn't matter. She'd not be her without him. Not this time.

Parking the car a few miles from Woodbury, Nora began her journey to the outskirts of the horribly run town. She recalled it being a hot spot for walkers... just what she needed. Literally. She wouldn't have a plan of action without them.

She spotted her first walker at a distance, crouching low and observing it curiously. Wonderful, she mused to herself as she noted two or three coming in to join the pack. She had put on some perfume and ensured making a bit of noise on her way into this spot, so she was sure they could sense her presence. She whistled softly, standing and catching their attention.

The chase ensued.

"Quiet tonight." Hughes announced as he approached his fellow comrades at the Wall of Woodbury. His teammates smirked and nodded in response as he took up one of the spare chairs. "Good."

"Yeah. Seems like almost all the biters in the area have been pretty well dealt with. Nothing heavy artillery can't fix, right?" Another, Gordon, chuckled in response as he righted his rifle next to him. "Thought I saw someone in the shadows earlier, but with the town this quiet... well, I guess it breezed by."

"Must've." Hughes replied, leaning back in his chair. He righted immediately after, however, when he noticed a small formation of biters emerge from the shadows. "Let's take care of this crew and you can call it a night."

"You got it." Gordon replied as he readied his gun. The two men paused and their eyes grew wide in horror as they saw more biters coming in to join the smaller pack, making the group much larger than expected. "Fuck! Hughes, call backup! We gotta get an alert out!"

"I'm on it!"

Nora grinned as she had repeated the same plan on the other wall, knowing it was sure to keep the men occupied for some time while she snuck into the fortress and proceeded to steal back what she really came here for. On the bright side, majority of walkers had gone on to join the horde and left her alone completely; save for a few laggers who assumed her to be a walking meal. They had met their end silently and quickly, giving Nora a boost of energy in her journey.

It had taken hours just to round up enough walkers to overwhelm the guards on one side, let alone the other. And it had taken even longer, trying to find a secure method of entry without getting caught. Who knew how worse for wear Daryl was at this point, but it didn't matter. Even if she'd found him near death, at least she would find him. At least she would be there for him.

Once she had entered the town, the young Irish girl stayed to the small alleyways and the shadows, knowing the consequences if she was caught. She kept eyes on both walls to ensure the guards were still preoccupied. When more were called, she waited for one to get close enough.

Taking her shot, she reached out and grabbed one who inched far too close to her perimeter. He looked like a mall cop; like one of those security guards who checked the establishments after hours. Not the greatest, but he'd do.

"You!" He breathed. When Nora saw his face, she knew why he was horrified. He was one of the men who had nearly beaten her senseless under the Gov's orders. "But you were..."

"Reborn, lad. And now... you're gonna help me." She hissed venomously. When he struggled, she slammed one of her sais into his right shoulder, covering his mouth to silence his cries of pain. "Shh, lad. Just a flesh wound, you'll survive... for th'moment, at least. I still need you."

In such a murderous, condescending matter even more terrifying than the Governor himself, the vengeance-bent Irishwoman tilted the man's head to face her.

"Now... you're gonna tell me where 'e's keepin' 'im." She said, her tone terrifyingly sweet. "Or I'm going to cut off your fingers." She brushed his hair back from his eyes and smoothed her fingers over his jawline.

"Who?" He wheezed out, wincing in pain. Nora's face turned immediately feral and she grabbed his hair, jerking his head back as her other hand began twisting the blade in his shoulder. His cry went unheard from the shouts over both walls and the screams of the terrified villagers.

"My Beast."


	33. Chapter 33

The Governor was quick, catapulting a tight fist into the Redneck Saint's gut. Daryl coiled over in pain, feeling the breath immediately exit his weak body as the taste of blood flooded his mouth and sputtered all over the cement floor. His head fell forward as he started to black out again. He had taken one hell of a beating from the Governor and it seemed like he faded in and out of consciousness between every other blow. Almost all of Daryl's face was swollen as if he had stuck his whole head inside of a hornet's nest. His right eye was puffy as hell and impossible to even open. His lips had been split open in multiple places and Daryl was almost certain that his left cheekbone had been fractured. There was no telling how long he had actually been here. This interrogation session felt like centuries to Daryl.

Many questions had been asked about his group of survivors and of the prison. All questions that had been asked were left unanswered. Daryl was stubborn, not to mention incredibly tough. He did not crack or crumble under the Governor's twisted and cruel methods. Daryl had boldly stated he wasn't afraid to die and god dammit he had meant it! Which the Governor could see this. He could tell that he had meant those words, the only real words he had spoken to him practically since this session began, and it just made him want to try even harder to inflict serious pain upon the Redneck.

The Governor was hardly after the information now. On the contrary, he would find another informant to beat answers out of. But for now, considering the Redneck's ability to withhold, it only made laying fist-to-cuff all the more fun. Gov was a sadist, nothing more, nothing less. There was something about inflicting pain upon men like this that brought him a sense of solace that he was unable to obtain anywhere else.

As such, his beatings continued, his questions pressed and the less answers he obtained, the harsher Daryl Dixon's beatings would be. He would keep going until he granted the Redneck his deathwish.

* * *

Merle had been forced to crack his way into Woodbury the second he arrived. Needless to say, it was a lot easier than expected, considering every able-body was out guarding both walls from walkers. His deformed arm ached from the forced effort of hoisting himself over one of the greater side walls and getting himself inside, but he had managed. He kept his knife-extension at the ready and a pistol in the other hand in case things went more sour than they already were.

Creeping in between two buildings, he watched the people running around in panic. Merle waited until the fearful crowd rushed back into their houses, soon emerging into the streets only to sneak to an alley between two other buildings.

But he wasn't alone here. Something rustled from behind him and just as swiftly as he had gone to attack, he stopped when one of his own men fell against him.

"Woah! Woah, hold on now, buddy." He muttered in a mocking, soothing tone as he rested his comrade up against the brick wall, eyeing his wounds. "What's got you all beat up? You bit?"

"No! No, it was... it was the girl. The one the Governor buried!" He managed, fright never leaving his eyes. "She's alive, Merle! The bitch is fucking alive!"

"Shh." He raised a finger to his lips. "She's back, why'd she let you go?"

"Sh-she didn't. I escaped. But I know who she's here for..." He sputtered out, coughing up a bit of blood. Merle's eyebrows raised, urging him forth with a slight shake. "She said something about a Daryl. Part of her group. I-I think it's that sonovabitch with a crossbow that we captured not long after you left!"

Merle's expression never changed, but he had quickly gone silent as death the moment his brother's name came into play. Daryl was here. Here in Woodbury. Despite his excitement, he could only imagine what hell his baby brother had gone through on behalf of Nora's rebellious nature. Did the Governor even know she was alive? Merle sure as hell didn't. All he knew was that Andrea and the negro had escaped, stole one of their vehicles and fled Woodbury first chance they got. Either way, that Irish bitch was pissed.

"Don't you worry. I'll take care of everythin'." Merle said finally, easing his knife up to the man's throat. "Shh..." he muttered before sticking the blade through his chin and into his brain.

With the comrade dead in seconds, he fled the alleyway, making for the Governor's 'information' session.

"Sir!" One of the Governor's men shouted as he burst through the door. His knuckles were bloodied to the point where he couldn't tell which was his and which was Dixon's. His chest heaved from the power he put into every hit. His hair was sweat slicked and sticking to his forehead.

In short, he was a fucking mess.

"What!" The Governor snapped.

"It's Merle, sir. He's back from his trip. Just wanted to check in."

"I'll be out in a minute."

By the time he'd cleaned up, Merle was standing patiently in wait outside the door.

"Merle. Good to see ya made it." The Governor stole a glance to Merle's blade, which still had blood on it. "Trouble getting in?"

"Looks like you got yourself a problem at the gates," The Redneck's brother informed him, sounding breathless as well. "Walkers on each side. They're breakin' our ranks, too. Way too many of 'em."

"Let's get up there'n help." The Gov stated, brushing past him.

"Who's in there?" He motioned to the door.

"Just an old friend turned enemy. He can wait. Let's go."

"Right behind yah." He replied, beginning to walk behind him. Merle took the guards following behind to his advantage, letting them bustle in front of him. He followed them to the exit into the street, but not beyond that. Instead, he turned and went right back to the door between him and his brother.

He didn't tell the Governor about Nora. Considering the lies the man had fed Merle about his brother, he wasn't about to inform him of the one threat that proved most promising to his cause. Nora wanted Daryl out and Merle wanted Daryl out. For now, she was a partner-in-crime until proven otherwise.


	34. Chapter 34

The room was dimly lit and the table that had been in the center of the room was now occupied by the Redneck Saint. The upper half of his body rested upon its surface while his legs dangled over the edge, his feet dragging the floor. He was still; so still that he appeared to be lifeless. He looked like a bloodied corpse that would be left to rot in this dying world. And that was just fine. Daryl didn't care. His eyes were heavy and he felt completely and utterly tired; useless.

It had been a long time since he had had his ass handed to him like this before. A lot of the scars on his body had been made by his father and Merle when he was younger, now he had the Governor's handy-work to compliment their own.

Daryl's head rested flat against the hard surface of the table, his blood pooled out around his face. His entire body had grown numb to the pain as his head began to drift in and out of consciousness. His eyes stirred behind closed lids as the sound of that god awful metal door opening creaked through the air. The Governor was coming back for more, he thought, and he was prepared. He was almost certain that this time he really would be embraced by the hands of Death.

The sounds of footsteps could faintly be heard upon the cement floor as it grew gradually closer toward him; almost hestantly. It wasn't until they stopped and there was a drawn out silence before Daryl bothered to open his one good eye. His vision was a little foggy at first as his eye adjusted to the lighting and came across a blurred figure. His brows pulled together as he squinted. After a few moments his eye came into focus and the familiar face of his brother was staring down at him. He looked a mixture of rage with a hint of concern.

A brief silence (that felt like forever) passed before suddenly a weak, hoarse and humorless laugh began to come from the Redneck. His head fell back on the table as he coughed, blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth as he did so. It was just like it was back in those damned woods. Another near-death-experience and he was seeing his brother again. He had gone through so much shit that for him to be hallucinating his brother again was amusing to the Hunter in a twisted way. "Merle..." The corner of his lips struggled to curl upward in a psychotic smirk, revealing his bloodied teeth. His eye closed again as he choked once more on his blood. His head rolled to the side and away from him. "Come t' bust my balls 'bout how much a pussy I am, again?" He asked breathlessly, that same sarcasm still present in his tone.

Of course Merle was hesitant. He needed to take into account that, if the Governor had gone this far with him, his brother might have already been lost and a monster could have replaced him. He couldn't risk going that far. Not until he knew his brother was still in there somewhere.

But just as he'd leaned in, hearing a minimal amount of breath coming from his baby brother's lungs, he saw his eyes open just a sliver. And then a small laugh ensued. Apparently seeing him was humorous? Probably delusional, Merle thought to himself as his lips curled downward in a tight frown. He scoffed at Daryl's comment as he turned away from him to round the table.

"This is a right mess yah got yourself into, baby brother." He commented disapprovingly. "All for what? A group that ain't even huntin' for yah, that's what." He smirked just then, shaking his head at his own brother's massive stupidity. "All for a wee li'l Irish who ain't even comin' to your rescue? That ain't bein' a pussy, brother, that's bein' stupid, I tell ya."

"Shuddup." Daryl grumbled as he coughed again. The last thing he needed was this bullshit. "I ain't got time ta talk t' a ghost." He spoke hoarsely.

"Ghost?" Merle sounded amused at first but then his concern deepened. Perhaps the Governor had gone too far with his torture and had given Daryl some brain damage. "I'm flesh n' blood." He said, drawing out the last word.

This sent chills down Daryl's spine. Flesh and blood. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he remembered his last hallucination had ended with a walker chewing on his boot when he had thought it was Merle. Daryl's eyes opened suddenly to look at his brother, who was now moving to hover over him, his face an emotionless mask.

"I'm gonna get ya outta here, lil brother. We'll move along, just the two'a us. I'll turn you into a man again, you can count on that. No more'a this Brady Bunch bullshit." Merle hissed, his eyes narrowing as they pierced into Daryl's. He leaned in closer as his hand moved to extend toward Daryl.

Merle's mouth opened and Daryl stiffened, preparing himself for the bite. But instead he felt the ties around his wrist being worked at as Merle spoke. "You'n me, just like it was before that Rick." He spat the name like it was venom. "They gone'n made ya soft." Merle stated distastefully as he managed to untie Daryl's left wrist. "N' look what the cost was."

Realization slowly started to come to the Redneck as he laid on the table. His eyes snapped open and shifted to look into the face of his older brother. He felt the ties around his right wrist come undone and watched as Merle pulled back to stare sternly at him. Daryl's hand immediately lifted to reach for his brother's shoulder, where to his amazement was actually there to grasp. His fingers curled to give Merle's shoulder a squeeze as a heavy breath exited his lungs. Merle was here. Merle was real!

Merle watched his brother and shook his head shamefully at him. "I ought ta beat yah ass for bein' such'a coward." He sounded pissed as he reached his left hand up to clasp around Daryl's wrist. Merle forced it away before giving a sharp tug to force his brother toward him. Daryl sat upright and slumped over, had it not been for Merle stopping him he would have fell to the ground. And suddenly Daryl's head began to swirl and the lights started to fade again. "C'mon now! Enough'a this pussy shit! It's time t' put on yah big-boy britches and man up!" He slapped his hand against Daryl's face, but received no reaction. "We ain't got time for yah pansy ass to be blackin' out now!" Merle barked, but it was futile, Daryl had blacked out and had went slack in his brother's hold.


	35. Chapter 35

She froze upon the commotion, slinking back into the shadows with a disgusted sneer as her bright blue eyes studied the Governor and his men from afar. Her lip curled. Her stomach tightened and as the memories came pouring into her intricate memory, her fury worsened tenfold. But she couldn't attack yet. Let the son of a bitch get distracted by her strategic placement of walkers for the time being. His end would come by either her hand or Daryl's in due time. When that moment came, it was sure to be a wonderful end to a very evil reign. But until then, Nora would have to remain in the dark; unseen and unheard.

What confused her more was witnessing the encounter between Merle and his comrade. Why kill him if he was in alliance with his master? Clearly the man had a separate agenda that the Galway Archer was unaware of. No matter. He was certainly no attribute to her cause as of yet, but he was also no damper on her plans.

She slid into the small pathway behind the buildings. Now memorizing her path from Merle's entrance and the Governor's exit, she followed their lead and hid herself from prying eyes in the shadows once again. She was so close to her goal, she could almost taste sweet victory on her tongue. Her breath increased, panicked from the worry of what she might see when she finally pushed into the room Daryl was held captive in. How would she even be able to get him out? She had strength, but more agility and stealth when she wasn't carrying someone like Daryl Dixon on her shoulder. Plus, she was much tinier than him. She could only lift so much for so long.

She would have to cross that bridge when she got to it.

"Go back and get him! And if our little bitch has gotten curious and found out who we have down there, kill him! I don't need no more troubles with family." The Governor's voice rang out just as the Galway Archer had been ready to pounce at the entrance. She slid back, avoiding being seen just narrowly by the four men who had marched back into their boss' interrogation chambers. Lenora remained silent, almost holding her breath as the Governor followed a few paces, stopped and peered into the shadows. He wouldn't have seen her. Or perhaps he was under the assumption that she was some kind of ghost. No matter. Whatever outline he thought he had seen had vanished from his mind the moment he was called away by his men. Panic was swelling in peaceful Woodbury. They were at war with something only Nora and her group were utmost familiar with.

She breathed a sigh of relief and tilted her head back against the wall. She had been so close. All she needed to do was reach out and grab him. Pull him in and introduce him to a firewall of Irish fury that only Nora Brannigan herself could provide. But with every ounce of self restraint she possessed, she forced herself to keep at bay. Again... his time would come. But she was going to ensure that what time she had with him would be slow, painful and agonizing. Until then... patience would be practiced thoroughly.

Once a decent amount of time had passed with no interruptions, Nora took her chance and slid stealthily through the entrance of the building, making her way to the gore-riffic scene that was to commence upon her arrival.

"We ain't got time for ya pansy ass ta be blackin' out now!" Merle hissed, shaking his brother. All to no avail as Daryl slumped against him.

"Merle!" His attention had turned immediately to the four men with guns trained on him.

"Boys!" He announced, not laying his brother down upon the slab just yet. If he still had any amount of luck with him, let it be used up now. No way out, from what he could see so far. But if anyone was going to take a bullet, it was gonna be him... then his brother, he mused with a frown. Fuck. "How y'all doin'?"

"Strict orders, Merle. Sorry."

Time slowed as the first gun took aim and the finger tugged lightly upon the trigger. But the bullet, much to Merle's surprise, had flung in a wayward direction far from where he stood. The head from the bearer had remained in place as the body slumped to the ground. But there was something that slammed through the forehead that looked like a thin, deathly blade. Being held by a tiny female with raven hair and an bloodthirsty leer in her eyes, the well-handled katana flung the severed head into the face of her second opponent, knocking him back for the time being as she lunged for the third. A loud scream of war fled her lips as she acted on milliseconds, whirling the blade around to gain momentum as she swung low and severed the arms gripping his gun, then his legs in one fell swoop. She tugged her sai from her boot and embedded it into his head, putting her right foot onto his shoulder as she launched herself into the air and attached onto her next victim.

The struggle ensued as she leaped onto him. He stumbled backwards, slamming her spine into the wall. She reacted quickly, kicking off and forcing his head into the concrete slab opposite of them. He lost slight balance, but didn't fall. And for his insolence, she slammed her katana into his stomach, ignoring the various walls she was driven into in the process. She crawled all over him, dragging the blade upwards until his intestines spilled onto the ground. With one final pull and a beast's cry, she pierced the heart and he slumped to the ground. She finished him off with a sai to the cranium.

"Please! Please, don't kill me!" Came the cry of the man who had lost his weapon from being struck by the head of his friend. Nora sneered, remembering his face. "Please! I just work for him!"

Nora said nothing, moving to kneel beside him as she re-sheathed her katana. She lifted his head, pressing the blade of her sai under his chin.

"No... NO!" She pressed. Slowly. Steadily. After a few seconds, the tip of the blade pierced the brain with a final push. And so she stood, blood splattered on her clothes and a bit on her face as she turned cold eyes to the man holding Daryl.


	36. Chapter 36

"Merle..." Brannigan announced, no humanity entering her eyes just yet. No. She was cold. Icy... not herself. "Good t'see you again." But with the way she had been abused by the likes of the Governor... it wasn't surprising to the Redneck. She entered the room, beginning to push the door closed, but it stalled when one of the severed arms were blocking it. She kicked it into the room, then pushed the door closed with the tip of her sai. "I wonder... what would a bastard like you... be doing helping a man like dis one?"

* * *

It didn't matter to Merle that he was unarmed and had four guns aimed at him. He came here with it set in his mind that he was going to rescue his baby brother and god damn he was going to do it! A broad grin formed upon his lips as he braced himself. He was prepared to go down fighting. And just as he was about to get ready to dodge bullets, in came Nora to save the day - or rather, Daryl.

Merle clapped upon his stump in response as the Irish closed the door behind her, shutting them in. A taunting chuckle fled his lips. "Well, would yah look at that." he began, allowing some distance to come between him and his brother. "That was some real Braveheart-Samurai shit." He shook his head, finding a certain comedy in the situation. "Not bad for a mick." Merle stated mockingly.

The grin on his face slowly faded as he responded to her question, "Ain't none'a yah concern what my business is." His voice bore a warning, one that told her not to pry on the matter. He had witnessed the full fury of Lenora Brannigan and though she was a tough kitten, he still had no worries or concerns that he could not handle her. He was ignorant that way. Merle was bold and cocky and even in the face of death he would laugh at it, ready to go down fighting like a man - or at least in his definition of what a man was. Merle's eyes shifted upon Daryl, who was now laid out on the table again, unconscious and barely breathing.

He returned his attention to her, his eyes trailing up her figure to lock firmly with her eyes. A look of amusement twinkling in his sadistic eyes as he grinned once more at her. "I gotta admit: with a track record of leavin' people behind, I'm surprised one member of the Scooby Gang actually pulled through t' come n' save Daryl. Where were you n' Officer Friendly when my life was on th'line?" He questioned, with bitterness in his tone. He was pissed that Rick and the others had left him stranded on the roof. Even though Lenora had no idea it had happened to him, she was apart of that group and if he didn't have the group to physically beat the shit out of or blame, he'd go for the next best thing - which was her.

* * *

The wee Irish narrowed her gaze upon the horrendous title. He had to go directly for the sweet spot. As if Nora wasn't seeing red enough already.

"Looks like yer pullin' through t'save 'im just as well." She said, her tone almost sadistic. She was here for one purpose and all this man was doing was wasting her time. But in light of his obvious resentment to the group, Nora hadn't responded in the manner assumed. Instead, a wicked grin formed upon her face and she tilted her head almost psychotically to the side. Clearly, the past held no meaning to her. Nor did his present circumstances. She had come here for her Beast and she would leave with him, no matter the cost. Even if it meant cutting down this right son of a bitch and dragging Daryl out into danger, she would do it. She would ensure his survival, not Merle's.

The right corner of her lip twitched. "Oh." She cooed, her grin growing wolfish. "Struck a nerve, 'ave I? Poor bairn." She pouted her lower lip, strolling closer as she stole a glance to his stump. "Well, you seem to 'ave survived just as well wit'out the... Scooby Gang, was it? An' wit' all the shite you and your little boss put me an' the girls through... I can't say I blame 'em for leavin' ye behind." She took steps even closer, causing Merle's senses to pique. If she attacked, she might very well win... but he'd be ready to knock her a few good ones before she got the gold.

"Enough'a dis chatter." Brannigan stated with a cold wave of her hand as she withdrew her katana. "I'm tight on time, so I'll make dis simple. I take Daryl and you don't get mutilated like yer little buddies in the hallway. He only 'as so much time dat I'm not willin' ta trifle wit'. You have five seconds to make your choice. Five..."

Her taunts hardly phased Merle. A laugh erupted from him as she boldly started her countdown. "You got guts, I'll give yah that." He raised his right arm to show off his blade as a grin pulled at his lips. "Well, c'mon little girl. It's rude t' keep a man waitin'." Merle mocked as he prepared for her oncoming attack.

Brannigan grinned at the response. She'd have to be sure to avoid the blade. Keeping in his blind spots would be easy enough.

"You've just made my day." She announced, lunging for his feet and striking upwards. Merle was quick to react, blocking her blade and jamming his elbow into her skull. Nora took the pounding migraine that followed and barreled out of reach, tossing her leg at his feet and tripping him successfully. He swung, striking the outer part of her thigh and making her cry out in pain. Nora reacted with a boot right to his nose, making him bleed.

The battle ensued.

"Why fight so hard, Merle?" She teased finally as both of them stared at each other in a bloody mess. Now she had his arms pinned and her hands around his throat, choking the life from him."Clearly yer not gonna win this one, so why fight it?"

* * *

Merle choked a laugh through her strangling him. "Yer one t' talk, mick." He seemed amused, despite his disadvantage. "You're fightin' awfully hard fer that sack o' shit that claims t' be a man." Merle continued, hoping to poke a little fun as he stated, "You'd think yah love'im. That it, Lenora? Yah here t' rescue th'love o' your life?" He cackled once more.

* * *

Lenora's breath caught in her chest when that word struck her. Love. She'd never thought of it before. Whatever connection her and Daryl held, she knew it was strong. But to compare it to something as common as love; to generalize it was... something else. She froze; glared to the point of venom practically seeping from her eyeballs.

But her grip had faltered. Her heart raced in being found out by the one man who's hatred she bared grew with each passing second. Her breath stopped and her eyes had gone wide in shock.

Love. Fuck!

She loved him.

The second her grip released slightly and the blood rushed back to his head, Merle acted quickly, getting his amputated hand free and jamming the blade into her shoulder. Nora screamed out as the tables turned. His foot slipped up and kicked her in the gut, knocking her square off of him and allowing him the window to roll over onto his own feet.

* * *

His left hand raised to check the damage she had done to his nose earlier, as he laughed. "Well, I'll be damned." He breathed, his raspy voice carrying a sense of humor as he looked upon the Irish woman. "You really do love'im." He chortled mockingly as he stumbled abit on his feet. "I get it... fucked yah once and ya got hooked, eh?" Merle grinned like an asshole at her as he added, "gave your pussy alittle TLC?"

* * *

Her shoulder pulsed and throbbed in intense pain. She leered through blurry eyes at Merle, her fury only multiplying tenfold when he mentioned the likelihood of her getting fucked and hooked on a man like Daryl Dixon that easily. He didn't understand. It ran so much deeper than that. No sex, hardly any physical contact at all, really.

But a bond that was enough to make the Irishwoman kill in his honor just to get him home and safe again.

But still. The matter at hand was this: pure, unbridled rage. She clutched her shoulder a little longer, allowing the fury to build until she let out a cry of pure animosity. No more games. He would die. Right here, right now. She catapulted herself into action, dragging her katana from the floor and bolting in his direction, intending on ending whatever reign he had over the man lying on the table.

* * *

Merle watched as she sat on the floor and clutched at the fresh wound he had made upon her shoulder. A hint of satisfaction twisted itself upon his features as he watched the fury in her eyes ignite and light up like a forest fire. She had all kinds of rage - one that had initially started off aimed in the direction of the Governor but was now steered full force at him.

He stiffened in his position, his eyes studied her movement as she bravely took up her katana and charged at him and let out a warrior cry. Merle was prepared to somehow dodge this oncoming blow from her, but unfortunately - or maybe fortunately, he was left unable to do anything. A second scream had erupted from somewhere off to their side; one that was growing increasingly loud and closer with each mili-second that passed.

Daryl had awoken and heard just enough and seen what was about to happen to know that Merle's life was about to come to an abrupt end. His heart raced, threatening to explode out of his chest cavity, and the adrenaline rush took over, numbing all of the pain of his weakened body - enabling him the will power to get to his feet and rush to defend his older brother. "NOOOO!" He shouted as he stumbled his way between Nora and Merle.

Merle seemed surprised by his baby brother's capability to even get himself off of the table in the first place, but another glimmer of satisfaction played visibly upon his features at his brother's sudden defense.

The Redneck Saint huffed and heaved, his body wavered as if the weight of his body was unsure of where to settle itself as he glared with one eye at Nora. Fresh blood dripped from the corners of his mouth and trailed down his already blood stained chin.

"That's m'boy." Merle praised Daryl's actions and his words would smack Lenora in the face.

* * *

Nora acted on instinct. Almost swinging her blade in full force downwards. But it stopped millimeters from the very neck she was trying to save. Daryl's eyes shot daggers in her direction. Fresh blood poured from his mouth and Nora realized what was happening.

Boy... boy... what the hell was going on here? Nora immediately stopped. Humanity returned to her gaze and the beast within her was instantly caged behind walls of emotion that threatened to pour from her eyes. She lowered her katana, not daring to put another thought towards fighting just yet. For Daryl, she would submit to a draw if it was required. And since she was already losing blood from her wound on her shoulder, she wouldn't strain herself further.

She would have to save her energy for those who's fate she had control of.

"Beast..." she whispered after finally putting away her weapons. "I..."

* * *

Daryl remained where he was, his eyes never moving from Nora. His body swayed from side-to-side, barely even able to support his own weight as he stood between his brother and the Irish woman. He noted the way Nora had submitted to his will by lowering her katana. The look in her eyes told him that he knew she was in question over his actions but that she would not go against him and strike Merle down.

"Easy, li'l bruther." Merle cooed as if he was speaking to a loyal pup. He extended a hand out to clamp down onto Daryl's shoulder, to which the Redneck nearly lost his balance. Daryl stumbled back and fell into his brother. "Woah, woah! Hey, now." Merle supported his brother's weight which rested against his frontside.

* * *

Little... brother. Little brother. Little... fucking... brother?! Nora's face fell into shock as Merle had reached a hand out to his younger sibling; almost as though he were basking in his superior state. Brannigan couldn't even compute that Daryl Dixon would have ever been related to... that.

The moment her Beast had stumbled into his sibling, however, she knew that this would have to be something processed later when they weren't toying with time.

"Shut up." Nora seethed when Merle spoke. No matter how miniscule the words were, his voice was enough to make her head pound harder than a sailor on shore leave. "Pick 'im up. Carry 'im out." She snapped viciously as she brushed past Merle, who was already gathering his brother up to hoist over his shoulder. "I'll take care o'the rest..."

Merle didn't say another word on the topic. Nora opened the door for him, allowing him to step ahead and bleed into the shadows outside of the building they'd stolen Daryl back from. Nora had vanished from sight a few times, but had returned to Merle's side when any unexpected visitors came into play. Essentially using the Dixon brothers as a vague form of bait, Nora utilized them to navigate out of Woodbury, where the walkers weren't gathered.

"Car! Y'said y'had one!" Merle huffed as he jogged, trying to keep pace with Nora as she rushed through the woods, keeping the path clear.

"No' far! We're almos' there, keep pace! Can't be losin' ye." She shouted back to him, carving down a few walkers and ensuring that Merle was following close behind.

Upon reaching the car, Merle had placed Daryl into the back seat and turned to Nora. "The prison, huh?"

"It's the only place Daryl will get th'elp 'e needs." She replied breathlessly as she got into the driver's seat. Merle took a deep breath and shut the back passenger door, rounding to the other side quickly to get in.

He could've run. Could've fought her for the damn car. But his baby brother's life was on the line. For now... selfishness would have to sit out.

From there, it all seemed to be smooth sailing... aside from all the horrid comments Merle had made along the way. Nora had said nothing; too busy with her own thoughts to even acknowledge that he was in the car.

By the time they'd reached the prison, nobody was ready.


	37. Chapter 37

Upon arriving to the prison, Carl noted the vehicle rolling up that Nora had left in. "She's back!" Carl shouted from the watch tower to the others below. Glenn and Jose glanced up from their position by the far end of the Yard and exchanged looks before they quickly rushed toward the fences to open them.

As the car drove through they noted a person in the passenger's seat and assumed it would have been Daryl, but as they approached the parked vehicle they soon realized otherwise.

Merle opened his car door and stepped out of the vehicle which caused the asian boy to freeze in his position. His expression hardened in disbelief. "Merle?!" He sounded like he was seeing a ghost; and this particular ghost was one he had hoped he would never have to see again. "What is he doing here?!"

Jose looked between the two ex-group members confused. "Who is this cabron?" He questioned, moving to settle his eyes upon Merle.

"Easy tiger." Merle held a hand out toward the asian.

Glenn's chest suddenly tightened as he shifted his attention upon Nora. "Daryl? Where's Daryl?!" Worry was drenched in his voice as his feet began to swiftly move him toward the Irish woman. He half expected to hear those dreadful words. The words that carried the bad news that Daryl had not made it; that their Redneck Saint had been killed.

"Y'ever show that kinda concern for me when ya left my ass on th'roof?" Merle's tone held resentment as he spoke bitterly to the boy before he made his way over to the side door. "Don't get yah panties in a twist, ya boyfriend's alive." He moved his left hand toward the handle and pulled it open to reveal a bloodied and unconscious Daryl laid out on the backseat.

Merle's sarcastic nature was quickly forgotten as the sight of Daryl's neglected body came into view. "Oh god." Glenn breathed, his expression faltering. "Daryl..." The asian boy swallowed hard.

* * *

Nora grunted as she got out of the car. The pressure on her injured shoulder was almost too much to bear and with all of the action taken in their escape, she'd lost a fair amount of blood. As such, she wasn't really prepared for the bombardment of questions regarding Daryl Dixon's well-being. Her Beastie was safe... for now. That's all she could've hoped to accomplish, whether he hated her by the next day or not.

"Data, it's fine. Would ye stop yer fussin' an' 'elp Merle out, please?" She noted Glenn's wariness in helping the one man who caused nothing but trouble for them on the roof that day, but she didn't care. She wanted to get inside, make sure Daryl was okay, stitch herself up and go to sleep. Optimism was still haunting her, not letting her believe that the man she now knew she held a deep love for had the possibility of death looming over him.

He was strong. He would be okay because he had to.

"Let's just get 'im inside." She seethed, righting her weapons and beginning to carry everything inside as Glenn moved to help Merle hesitantly.

Jose stepped in. "Nah, Glenn. Help Irish." He interjected, getting the gist of the animosity between the two males as he aided Merle in hoisting Daryl's limp frame.

Glenn paused, then wandered over to Nora, picking up some of the items she'd been struggling with.

"C'mon."

* * *

As Jose and Merle stumbled through the door the Mexican gave directions toward the infirmary. The two men dragged the unconscious Redneck toward the medical room. When they arrived they laid the man out on the bed, just as Rick and the others came in to join.

Rick was seen marching his way up to them. A serious expression twisted itself upon the Sheriff's features as his eyes fell upon the beaten Redneck that appeared lifeless upon the bed. He had barely had time to register the fact that Merle was there. Overcome by his own concerns for his comrade, Rick's quickened steps brought him to Daryl's bedside where he then silently nodded for Maggie to get to work. The eldest Greene swiftly moved to begin looking the Redneck over.

The Sheriff lifted a hand to wipe at his face worriedly as he stared into the bruised and swollen mess that had become Daryl's face. "Is it as bad as it looks?" He questioned, hardly able to take his eyes off of the Redneck. Almost his entire upper half had been drenched and stained in his own blood.

After several long moments of examining him, Maggie started to respond. "He might have several fractures in his face...A bullet wound here," she gestured over his right arm where one of the men had shot him. "But...I'm worried." Maggie's eyes lifted to meet Rick's, who gave her a questioning brow. "...He busted his head and he's still bleeding from it...He's lost a lot of blood. There's no tellin' what kinda damage his brain might'a taken..."

A look of fear crossed his features as he swallowed hard. His expression went stony and his throat tightened.

Merle, who had gone quiet, suddenly cleared his throat. His whole demeanor changed as his typical asshole-attitude was replaced with genuine concern for his baby brother's well-being. "He's...he's gonna pull through though, right?" The sound of a choke could faintly be heard as he added, "M'baby bruther's tough! Ain't no way he's gonna die!"

Maggie gazed upon the eldest Dixon morosely. "I'm sorry..." She pressed her lips together lightly as she reluctantly added, "but...even if he does pull through..." Her attention returned to Rick, who appeared to be holding his breath as he braced himself. "He might not wake up..."

After a long, drawn out pause the Officer slowly nodded his head and turned away. His head lowered and his hand clamped around his mouth as he tried to swallow down the information that had been given to him.

Merle on the other hand appeared stunned by this. His mouth was slightly ajar as he processed the words that had been spoken. Daryl might not wake up? His little brother had a slim chance of survival and even if he did make it, he might be in a coma? The older Dixon stumbled forward to bring himself closer to his brother's bedside. His lips pulled together as he tried to hide the fact that he was so broken-up over the matter. He could talk a big game, but when it came down to it, that's all he was: talk. In reality Merle was just as lost and broken as his baby brother had been before the group. And truth of the matter was, he loved his little brother more than anything and had tried his best to keep him safe. He had already come to terms with losing his brother once and miraculously they found each other. He didn't think he could handle losing him a second time.

Maggie frowned as she turned to start her task in cleaning the Redneck up. Glenn placed his hand on Carl's shoulder and gave it a squeeze as the two stared from a distance at the Hunter. "Shouldn't someone tell Carol...?" Carl began to ask, as he looked up to the asian boy behind him and then to his father.

"Let Maggie finish cleaning him..." Glenn suggested. He felt that it would frighten the woman to see Daryl in his current condition.

* * *

Lenora froze at the news. Might not... wake up? No. That couldn't happen. That _wouldn't_ happen.

But she remained tight-lipped and distant, shuffling back to allow Merle to move through the crowd and join his baby brother at his side. Her heart sunk low, dipping directly into her shoes with a hard 'thump'. Then it continued to hammer so loudly in her head that yet another migraine began to creep into her skull.

Still, her eyes never moved from the bloodied Redneck. She couldn't blink. She couldn't think... she couldn't fucking _breathe_. All the people she'd cut down just to get to him, all the turmoil she'd faced, the orders she'd defied... and he still had the chance of not making it through the night. Against her will, a single tear, thick and welled with sorrow, trekked from her eye and slid along her cheek.

* * *

"Can I talk to you?" Rick inquired as he turned to Nora, though he was really telling more than he was asking.

Rick walked outside of the infirmary and began to pace down the hall a little bit as he waited. He wiped his hand along his face thoughtfully as he paused in his steps. His back was to the Irish woman as he stood.


	38. Chapter 38

There was a long pause before he finally turned and faced her. He gave her a stern look as his brows furrowed and his eyes locked with hers. "What the hell do y'think you were doin' goin' off like that alone?" His voice was low, but there was an urgency in it as he scolded her.

* * *

_"Can I talk t'you?"_ Rick's voice ripped her from her thoughts and Nora whipped her head to face him. She breathed an inaudible "yeah" and followed him out of the infirmary, getting lost in her thoughts as she stood behind him, fury consuming her own actions. When he finally turned to her, Nora's eyes met his.

But they were different now. Distant. Like two large, icy blue black holes in their own little world of self destruction.

"What the hell were you doin', going off alone like that?" Those eyes hardly changed, but it seemed like a flicker of that familiar fire flared in the Irish's eyes as they finally met Rick's on a deadpan lock. Her glare chiseled deep into her face; worthy of a merciless woman scorned without just cause.

"What would you 'ave done if it was 'er?" She answered; hardly any ounce of emotion in her voice. It would've petrified anyone who knew Nora more than if she were to scream in their face. At least when she screamed, she was passionate about her cause. But now... there was nothing. Cold. Empty. Ruthless. Still passionate, yes. But on a much darker level.

* * *

Rick had not expected the response she gave him. He seemed taken back and the pain was visible in his eyes at the mention of Lori. He pressed his lips together and then gritted his teeth as he shook his head. "This-" He cut himself off and shook his head more, his eyes widening as he fought back the tears. "This ain't about her! You leave her outta this!"

After a pause, he continued. "We've already lost enough and your suicide mission could have costed the both of you!" At this Rick choked. He quickly closed his mouth and averted his eyes from the Irish woman. It was clear now that he had gone through so much devastation that the thought of not only losing Daryl, in addition to his wife and the other survivors, but also losing Lenora would have crushed the Sheriff. He had barely been able to hold it together the past two days since Lori's death and he wasn't sure if he could take losing another person; especially so soon.

Rick walked a thin line between sanity and insanity. Everything keeping him sane was being held together by stitches. That much was evident in the way he struggled. He lifted his head toward the pale woman and without a word he pulled her toward him into a fatherly embrace. Over the year Lenora had been here, Rick had felt responsible for her like she was a daughter of his own. The Sheriff squeezed her gently as tears started to rim in his eyes. "...I donno what I would'a done...What would I've told the others..." He was weak; unstable.

* * *

She knew she'd hurt him. She knew she had struck a nerve that could've crumbled the Sheriff to his knees. But it needed to be said. Lenora knew Rick's chivalry. She also knew his dedication to the ones he loved most. Lenora didn't have anyone in her life until this group came along. And when Daryl had barged his way into her heart, she had no choice. She would put her life on the line to save his.

But when he jerked her in for a hug, choking out those words of honesty, Nora's shock multiplied. For a moment, a sliver of humanity filled her eyes. Rick had grown to be so much more than family to her. He was her second father. The man she'd gone to for direction; for answers and compassion. And for a moment... she'd forgotten how worried others would have been for her.

She didn't know what it was like to have people care about her so much.

"Rick." Lenora whispered; her voice broken and barely audible. She reached up with her good arm, applying a minimal amount of pressure. She hissed when he squeezed her tighter, his shoulders shaking hard as he tried to cover his sobs. She tried to hide the searing pain in her shoulder, feeling blood rushing to the wound with every amount of pressure applied. "I... I'm sorry. But... you weren't d'only one who lost 'er. I lost 'er. Closest t'ing to a real mot'er I'd ever come t'know. An' I ken yer love fer 'er. I know 'ow deep it runs. An' I ken th'pain... the not knowin'... the... fear." She pulled back, looking into his eyes. She was a mess. Covered in blood that was mostly not her own. Her makeup was running down her face and tear streaks now marked her cheeks.

But the look in her eyes was so much more now. So much deeper with worry, fear and turmoil.

"I know... I know." Pain. Fear. Hatred. Resentment. All of these emotions gathered together in her icy blue eyes as she stared at Rick. The truth was bare. She knew because she was feeling all of those things right now. The one SHE loved most was close to being lost at this very moment and she didn't know what to do. "And... I don't know what th'ell t'do." She choked out, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. "I can't... I was prepared for so much in dis world." She shook her head and looked off. "But no' dis... I wasn'a ready to... do this." She choked out a few sobs, burying her head in her hands. "I wasn'a ready t'care like dis..."

But as Nora was busy with her own inner battle, she hadn't realized that through Rick's tight vice grip of a hug, her blood had seeped from the wound in her shoulder and almost coated the front of his shirt from the amount she'd lost.

* * *

Rick gazed down into her face and his empathy and compassion shined through. His eyes met with hers. The tears in her eyes mirrored his own. He listened to her words and felt the pain of them, because he was in the same boat as her. There was so much in this world they had not been prepared for and it was hard to deal with. Especially when loved ones were involved. There was a brief pause between the two after Lenora had finished speaking, before Rick lifted a hand up to tilt her head forward so that he could place a kiss ontop of her head and then hugged her one last time.

He held her for a little while before he exhaled and pulled away as he composed himself together. "There's a lotta things none of us could've prepared for...but that's why we have each other." His eyes hardened slightly, to emphasize his next words, "To _**lean **_on. To _carry _each other. We don't pull apart during these times, we come _together_." He patted her shoulder lightly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He lifted his head at that time to watch as the group filed out one-by-one of the infirmary to continue their duties for the day. Rick looked to Nora and gave her a subtle nod that told her she could go if she liked as he dropped his hand to rest upon his belt.

* * *

She bowed her head, accepting the fatherly affection that resonated between them. When he pulled her in for a hug, she leaned into it. "I'll not apologize fer goin' after 'im when I did or how I did. Y'ken now 'ow it would've turned if I'd waited." She replied when Rick spoke his piece. "But you're right." She pulled out of the hug and looked to him finally, giving him all the comfort she could in one glance. "In times like dese... we'll just 'ave t'be a mess together." She joked, offering a small, weak and tired smile.

When Rick had pulled back and given her the nod, a faint look of protection flashed through her eyes as she glanced between her Pa and the group. But the look vanished once those crystalline orbs flew to her Beast laying on the bed. She bowed her head and cleared her throat.

"Gonna go find Carol." She announced, hooking her thumbs in her belt. "Need 'er 'elp wit somet'in'." She excused, filing out with the rest of them, but not before stealing one last glance at Daryl before she vanished completely.

* * *

Rick watched as Nora disappeared with the others. His head fell as he exhaled softly. He had to try to keep it together. Times were starting to get rough and it was only going to get worse, he feared. It was a matter of time before the Governor and his men came barging through the gates of the prison and tried to take over.

The Sheriff stumbled forward and caught himself by the wall in front of him as his eyes folded shut. He clenched his jaw and swallowed as he shook his head. They had suffered so much loss already and he knew that a war would only mean more causalities. Casualties that he wasn't sure he could bear to stand or cope with. Rick lifted his other hand to clamp over his face, smoothing it over, as he inhaled deeply. What the hell was he going to do to keep his people safe..?


	39. Chapter 39

From those concrete slabs of flooring laying passage from the hallway to the foreboding terrain of the infirmary, the change in scenery was almost indescribable. Anxiety and worry bled through space and time, dissolving into a bond nearly severed by trauma and broken promises long past. The cobblestone became darker. It became deeper. It morphed and molded into a strict collaboration of emotions only pertaining to those who felt a true brotherly bond.

Nobody could feel that pain, aside from Merle Dixon.

A back stood, crooked and slumped in the midst of inner defeat. Strong arms folded over a broad, sweaty, dirty chest. Weathered, slate eyes cast down upon the mash of broken bones and gore that once resembled a very living human being. The significance of the potential corpse itself was inconceivable. The possibility - no - even the notion that the form laying only a few solid feet from the older Dixon was passing to another plane with each grueling second was even further from the grasp of those bold, folded hands.

It was probably why it took the redneck almost a full turn of an hour just to brave himself enough to step closer.

One... two... three.

Three steps. So close a kin, yet so far a mind.

What demons was he fighting just to return? What world could he be trapped in? What if he never returned from it?

"Ye're worse'n walker bait." Thick arms unfolded, tapping his blade-hand against his hip. The words... hollow. The mind almost didn't believe the phrase had tumbled from his own parched mouth. "Geeks might as well crack yer skull open'n grab a straw." Fit to match a tasteless sense of humor, the emptiest of laughs bleated forth from his tongue... the rest caught in his throat.

A weathered face contorted immediately after. A plastic smirk faded to a frown. Slate eyes snapped to a close and the strong male turned ever so slightly to pull up a chair and plop himself down at his brother's bedside.

The weight waved into the uncomfortable seat with a heavy sigh to accompany it and for a moment, Merle Dixon looked everywhere except where his brother lay. As though trying to compute through the former madness that took place only a short time before, through where he stood with the people around him now... through everything... he might have very well found his brother just to lose him all over again.

Silence was a burden. It always was, wasn't it? Truth spilled through every nook and cranny of his brain. Along with truth came the sinking calling card of fear. It clawed its way into the back of the mind and nested. Time slowed and he felt it. The war in his mind against his heart, the pain, the suffering... the helplessness.

Awareness of helplessness.

"You 'member that time..." a strong chin tilted towards the ceiling, trying to blink away painful emotion, "we were kids. 'Fore all the troubles, 'fore I..." a pause. A choke. A continuance. "You got chicken pox, 'member that? Made you stay in bed almost th'whole summer, I was so pissed."

A lone set of five digits roved in recollection over the blade-adorned stump in place of the matching appendage.

"I went out packin' meat with pops'n when I came back, you was burnin' up bad, boy. Like someone started a fire under th'bed." Eyes cast back down to his feet, shuffling them slightly. "'Member my hands were all frozen from packin' the meat in that ice? I remember pops sayin' the cold would help yer fever. I figured: what could be colder than my damn hands?" A small chuckle erupted. True. Amused. "Wound up in th'bed next t'yours, all for tryin' t'take away yer fever." A scoff. An honorable death of humor. Pain. "Take away yer pain..."

A few bleats of air followed before sucking back a large wad of emotion that pooled in his throat. Merle's eyes closed as he raised a closed fist to his mouth to bite slightly; the pain, a welcome distraction from the urge to tear up. That silence proved true; almost making the democratic redneck's heart drop directly into his shoes as his head fell into his opening palm.

"Can't take yer pain away now, baby bruther." Another empty laugh before those slate eyes turned back to his bond. Lids of the right eye tried to imprison a salty badge, blinking hard in sore attempts to dry out the socket and push it back. "But that jus' means it oughtta make y'stronger, right?"

Silence.

"Right?"

Silence...

* * *

Some time had passed, how much to be exactly, Rick wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had been seated with his back against the wall for a while now. He had hardly moved from his place outside the infirmary since the others had gone. His mind had become a clutter of thoughts, questions and concerns. All of which brought him no peace of mind that he so desperately wanted and _needed_.

It was during this time where he tried to gather his thoughts, to compose himself enough to come up with a decent plan, that he heard the faint sound of a laugh coming from inside the infirmary. Initially he paid no attention to it, but then there was something about how Merle sounded afterwards that had.

Rick tilted his head back and turned his face toward the open door as he listened in, quietly. A look of sympathy twisting itself upon his worn face as he heard the helplessness in Merle's voice. This was quite unusual for a character like Merle Dixon. Rick may have only known the man for a short amount of time back in Atlanta, but it had been long enough to see the true nature of how the redneck really was.

However, everything that anyone knew Merle Dixon as from the past was practically non-existent now. In this moment he was a weak, hurt, and defenseless man that was terrified with the idea of losing the one and only thing he cared about in this world. His blood. His family.

There was a genuine love and concern for his baby brother that nothing could compare to. Even in the way he cracked his jokes and laughed to himself; it was the only thing he knew. The only way he knew how to bring comfort to himself. To assure himself that this problem with Daryl would pass in time and that even though things looked bad, that Merle was certain his brother would pull through.

_"Right?"_ - At least that's what Merle told himself...but could he believe those words?

Rick's lips pulled together into a soft frown when Merle's only answer was the discomforting sound of his own voice echoing back at him. He felt the pain of the man in the room behind him. On some levels he could understand his pain, even. Almost too perfectly.

The Sheriff breathed softly as he closed his eyes and brought a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. He held his fingers there for a while as he tried to fight back his own emotions pertaining to the redneck that had become his closest friend. In some ways he could not help but feel responsible somehow and he hoped that there was some way he could make things right.

At long last the Sheriff brought himself to his feet. He quietly took a step forward and stood outside of the door frame to gaze in. His eyes rested upon the distraught male seated beside the medical bed. Another small frown formed at his lips before he averted his gaze elsewhere. He lingered there a moment longer before he silently disappeared into the darkened depths of the corridor, leaving Merle to be truly alone with his brother.


End file.

Walking Dead, Drama, Suspense